Never Let Them See You Cry
by Sweet Little Mary Sue
Summary: <html><head></head>What if Alfred was not the only guardian that Bruce had to turn to after his parents were murdered? What if his mother had employed a lady's maid, and she too had been given directions for how the boy was to be raised? Alfred/OFC...more detailed summary located within.</html>
1. Chapter One

Never Let Them See You Cry

Sweet Little Mary Sue

Synopsis: What if Alfred was not the only guardian that Bruce had to turn to after his parents were murdered? What if his mother had employed a lady's maid, and she too had been given directions for how the boy was to be raised? It was an old-fashioned notion, a lady's maid in this day and time, but honor was unfashionable as well, along with honesty, integrity and compassion, and Evangeline Ripley possessed all of these qualities…as well as a longstanding and unfulfilled love for her cantankerous, yet caring, co-worker.

Disclaimer: I can't claim ownership of anything or anyone in the _Gotham_ universe. The only thing that belongs solely to me is my OC, Evangeline, and any and all others who might join her on the page, having journeyed from my imagination.

Author's Note: I'll probably follow the storylines from the show for the most part, though I will veer off course from time to time, in order to suit my storytelling purposes.

Rating Warning: This work of fanfiction is rated **M** for violence, mild to moderate cursing, and eventual citrus, both limes and lemons.

Chapter One

Evangeline's POV

My grandmother had always had an old saying for each and every situation in life. I could still remember most of them, and I found myself saying a good deal of them in the course of my day-to-day activities. I'd always been an impatient girl, and Grandma had told me that "a watched pot never boils" on more than one occasion, even though she knew how much it irritated me for her to do so when there was no pot around period, let alone one that was filled with water that was on the verge of boiling. Now that I was older and, I hoped, wiser, I knew that she had been telling me to wait, to be patient, and that was what I was trying to do at that moment, though, if the truth were to be known, I wasn't doing either of them well.

Damn Alfred and his need to keep me in the dark. So what if I wasn't his equal in the service hierarchy? I was just as loyal to the Wayne family as he was, and that meant that I had a right to know what sort of tragedy had befallen them. Of course, none of that mattered to _him_, did it? In his view I was not on the list of those who needed to know. Granted, I would hear everything when he returned, but God only knew how long that would be, and I was ready to go out of my mind, running through one awful scenario after another, as I paced the floor, waiting to see the headlights slowly making their way up the drive.

I recalled the way that the taillights had sped out of sight as Alfred drove away. I knew that he ought to have received the call to collect the Wayne's hours ago. I knew that he'd phoned them, several times, and received no response to his messages. I knew that he was worried, scared even, but he wouldn't open up to me…he never opened up to me. There were times when I suspected that he kept things from me in a bid to protect me, because I knew that he cared about me, in spite of his efforts _not_ to do so, but this was one of those times when I needed to know what was going on. How was I supposed to provide comfort and support to the family I loved, when I had no idea what manner of calamity had befallen them?

The thing that bothered me the most was the fact that there shouldn't have been any threat of misfortune at all. The family had gone out on the town for dinner, and then they'd had Alfred drop them off at the movie theater. He'd returned to the manor, with instructions to await their call when they were ready to be picked up, but they'd never phoned. I'd considered and even voiced aloud the unlikely possibility that they might have forgotten to call, or that they might have decided to take a cab home instead, but it had seemed more and more doubtful that they'd done so as hours had passed with no sign or sound of them.

Alfred hadn't said a word to me, not once in that whole time, but there was nothing too unusual about that either. It seemed that he was content for most of our communication to take place with glances and gestures, as opposed to verbal expression, and though I still didn't care for his methods, after fifteen years I'd become accustomed to them…or so I'd thought, until I _needed_ to hear his voice. I loved the sound of it, so soft and husky…so sexy. There were times when I'd paused in my duties, simply to listen to him, and it made my face burn, even though I was alone, in spite of my mounting trepidation, to recall how he made me feel, to remember what he could do to me, with just a mere whisper.

There were times when I wondered if he knew that I was in love with him, and just as often, I hoped that he had no clue whatsoever. He was always kind to me, polite and gentlemanly, except for those moments when he'd lose his temper, but he'd never made any effort to be more than my colleague. How I would love to be wanted by him, to tell the truth, I would have been thrilled just to have him as my friend, but he'd always held me at arm's length. We'd worked together for fifteen years, we'd known one another for a decade and a half, and yet I was still Miss Ripley to him, and he was still Mr. Pennyworth to me…out loud, that is, though in my mind he always had been and always would be Alfred.

How pathetic was I, to obsess over a man who clearly viewed me as being beneath his notice? How pitiable was I, to have counted all of the times throughout the years that he'd smiled at me? Ah, well. I knew that I was pathetic and pitiable; I'd accepted that fact long ago. I couldn't help who I was, no more than I could help that I was hopelessly in love with a man who'd never return my affections. No more than I could help but count his smiles, all fifty-two of them. No more than I could help but dream of the night of the annual Christmas dance, because I knew that he would waltz with me, and I would feel his arm wrapped around my waist…..

What on earth was wrong with me? I'd gone from pacing the floor and watching the windows to a nonstop reflection of my unrequited love in the span of a heartbeat. I knew that it was no use to pace, I knew that it did no good to worry, but it made a hell of a lot more sense for me to occupy my time in that way. What good could possibly come from another session of obsessing over the question of "why doesn't he love me back?" I didn't really want to add sadness to the mix of emotions that were plaguing me at that moment, did I? Did I truly need to put my mind, not to mention my heart, through all of that again, when there were matters at hand which were definitely more pressing in nature?

As if on cue, the window filled with light, and I practically flew to the front door, to welcome everyone back home…but there was something about the speed of the car as it came up the drive that told me that everything was _not_ well after all. Alfred was never flashy or reckless when he drove, but he never moved the car along at a crawl, and that was what I saw as I watched it move along the drive. He was taking things very slowly, cautiously even, and my heart began to pound fearfully in my chest when I saw that there was only one passenger sitting in the backseat.

I took one deep breath, followed quickly by another, and gathered all of the strength that I could find within myself. The figure in the backseat was a small one, which meant that it was Master Bruce, and the fact that he was the only one there meant that his parents had been hurt…but if that was the case, why had Alfred brought him home? Wouldn't he want to go to the hospital, to stay there until it was certain that his mother and father would be alright….?

"Oh, dear God," I murmured, quickly clamping a hand over my mouth to stifle the sob that had risen in my throat, even though I knew that the young man couldn't hear me. I kept my palm over my lips for a fraction of a second, and then I lowered it down to my side, where it belonged, before it could be seen by either of the occupants of the approaching vehicle. This was not the time, and it certainly wasn't the place for me to come apart at the seams. All of that would have to wait, for now, because Master Bruce would need me to be strong…and Alfred would demand that I do so, even if he didn't say so aloud.

The boy waited in the backseat, staring at me through the window, well, to be honest, staring _through_ me as he waited for Alfred to open his door for him. My eyes lingered on the child for a moment, then immediately went to Alfred as he exited the vehicle, hoping for some sort of explanation, even though I knew that I wouldn't receive one, nor should I expect to, given that this wasn't the time or place for such things.

That was why it came as such a surprise that he met my gaze with his own, and bestowed a look upon me that was a combination of sympathy and sadness, a glimpse of emotion that was gone in a heartbeat as he moved around the car to open Master Bruce's door. The boy didn't respond right away, he continued to stare at me blankly instead, until Alfred spoke to him, and then he slowly and wearily climbed out of the backseat.

I moved away from the door, to stand off to the side, just as I would have done had all of the Wayne family made it back home. I would stand there, shoulders back, eyes straight ahead, and wait for the young Master to pass me by, because that was what was expected of me, but the boy did not allow me to do so. He took two steps past me, then stopped and turned in his tracks, all but flying to me and wrapping his arms around my waist, to burrow his head against my chest as he sobbed, loudly and brokenly, as if his heart had been cleaved in two.

It had been a long while since Master Bruce had hugged me so tightly. He'd outgrown the habit as he'd gotten older, as children were wont to do, and I'd forgotten how good it felt for him to embrace me, as if I was his second mother. I held him close and murmured words that I hoped would comfort him, stroking his hair, the way I had when he was a baby.

Several minutes passed by while he cried, and I kept my eyes on the ground as I soothed him, until I felt that it was safe to slowly raise my head, fully expecting to find Alfred watching me disapprovingly. To my surprise, there was no hint of censure to be found on his face. There was only sadness and appreciation…and something else that I couldn't name, something that I'd never seen before, which disappeared the moment that his eyes met, and held onto, mine.

Alfred's POV

Evie was crying herself to sleep. I could hear her through her bedroom door, sobbing as quietly as she could, and I longed to go to her, to take her into my arms and hold her as she cried, but I wouldn't do that, I _couldn't_ do that…my God, I didn't dare. I chose to stay outside her door instead, my cheek resting against the wood, ear pressed close, listening to her muffled sobs while my fingers rested against the door, curling and relaxing, again and again, while, once more, I called myself a fool.

The sad truth was that I wasn't just a fool, I was growing closer and closer to being an _old_ fool, and why would a fine woman like Evie want an old geezer like me? I knew that I hadn't stood a chance with her fifteen years ago, when she was twenty and I was thirty-five, so why couldn't I accept the fact that she would just as soon fall in love with the man in the moon than to give me a second glance? I just couldn't help but wonder if she knew that I was in love with her, at the same time that I hoped, and prayed, that she didn't know and never would…..

I pushed away from her door with a silent curse and slowly made my way down the hall, toward my own quarters, even though I knew I wouldn't be sleeping tonight. It occurred to me that it was selfish, not to mention pathetic, for me to be obsessing on my own feelings at a time like this, but watching her comfort Master Bruce had stirred an old memory to life within me, one which I thought I'd buried away for good.

I remembered the way that she'd looked as she cradled the boy as a babe, I recalled, the way that she'd smiled at him, and kissed his tiny head. I remembered how I'd felt, watching her then, and all of those feelings had come flooding back tonight, to take hold of my heart and twist it about. I was just grateful for the fact that she hadn't noticed the way that I was looking at her. I knew that I wouldn't have been able stand to see the way she'd draw back, the way that she'd refuse to meet my eyes, if she were to notice. My heart was already stretched to its full extent tonight, and that would have undoubtedly been all that it would have taken to shatter it to bits.

I made it into my bedroom and closed the door behind me, standing still, for just a moment, to run through the events of the day and ensure that everything was as it ought to be, that everything was set to right and in its place…and that was when it dawned on me that it would never be that way again. Mister Wayne was dead, murdered, and his Missus was as well. The poor lad had been spared, that is, his life had been spared, but what did that mean to him, when he'd lost so much in the blink of an eye?

I went through the process of removing my clothing, neatly placing each item in the hamper, until I was down to my undershirt and my skivvies. Most nights would find me going through this process with an eagerness to go to sleep, but tonight I was wide-awake, and I knew that I would remain so until it was time to rise for a new day. I felt like I'd failed them, like I'd let them all down. I knew that the boy would cry into the night, just the same as Evie was, and I wondered how in hell I would be able to resist the urge to do the same.

"What a bloody waste," I muttered, swiftly wiping away the one teardrop that made it past my eyelids, in spite of my best efforts to hold it at bay. "What a bloody, hateful, _evil_ waste!"

I knew that it was unlikely that I'd be overheard by the others in the manor, as I turned to the wall and hammered my fists upon its surface, but I felt ashamed for doing so none the less. I was the one who'd reminded Master Bruce that he wasn't to cry in front of others, I was the one who'd caused Evie to hold her tears at bay in my sight, because she knew that I'd be displeased with her if she displayed what would have been the result of normal human emotions, yet here I was, sobbing like a baby, as I banged my fists against the wall.

I don't know how long I cried. I couldn't say with any certainty how much time passed by as I wailed as quietly as I could, before my hands quit pounding and I slid down to lay on the floor. It might have been minutes; it could have been an hour. I didn't know, and to be perfectly honest, I didn't care either. All that I could think about was that poor, innocent boy and his generous, loving parents. All that I wanted was for the world to be right again, and if I couldn't have that, I wished that I could be held by Evie. I wanted her to soothe me and stroke me, to whisper to me that everything would look better in the morning…..

Ah, hell…I would have been better off wishing for the moon.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Alfred's POV

I'd been in service to the Wayne family for twenty years. I'd served ten years with the Royal Marine Corps before that, and in the past thirty years I'd never overslept, not even once, so it was a little disconcerting, not to mention disappointing, to discover that I'd done so this morning. I had always been a punctual man, so much so that I set the standard for my coworkers and demanded that they always strive to meet my high expectations. Now I knew what it meant to be the one who'd fallen down on the job, and I cursed myself mightily as I rushed through my morning ablutions, thoroughly chastising myself for my behavior, because I knew that I was the only one in residence who'd do so.

I couldn't recall the moment that I'd surrendered to my exhaustion. All that I knew for certain was that I hadn't made it to my bed to do so. I'd fallen asleep on the floor instead, and that was why my movements as I made my way down the corridor weren't quite as brisk, not to mention spry, as they normally would have been. It was disgraceful, to be certain, to keep the young master waiting for his breakfast, and I felt like an utter failure as I rushed to the kitchen, only to be stopped in my tracks by the delectable scent that met my nose as I neared the double swinging doors that led inside.

It was my day to cook; Evie knew that just as well as I did. Most days I would have been cross with her for disregarding the schedule that I'd posted at the beginning of the week, but I was grateful to her for doing so today. I knew that I didn't deserve to be saved, not when I was guilty of behaving in an irresponsible manner, but I was willing to accept, and appreciate, her generosity.

I opened the doors slowly, when every other day would find me doing so abruptly, and strolled inside in the way that I expected everyone to move, with my head held high and my shoulders thrown back. I knew that I gave every impression of a man who was calm and cool and collected, just as I always did, but this morning I knew that it was dishonest for me to do so. My appearance was impeccable, in spite of the fact that I'd been rushed to ready myself for the day. I sensed that my bearing was one of confidence, just as it ought to be, yet I couldn't shake the fear that Evie would be able to see past the façade, and I couldn't help but wonder, and fear, how I'd react, when I saw the truth reflected in her eyes.

She was standing on my side of the immense chopping block that was used for food preparation and tray arrangement. She didn't immediately turn in my direction when I entered the room, as she would have normally done, but I was unlikely to complain anytime soon. I was too busy appreciating what a fine sight she made for a pair of weary eyes, a treat that I seldom allowed myself to enjoy as blatantly as I was at that moment, and I didn't want to ruin it with petty criticisms.

I suppose that there were those who'd say that I was much too old to be giving Evie the "elevator eyes", but to my way of thinking that was something that a man did until his ticker gave out on him. Yes, I was an older gentleman, one who had reached middle age, but I still had excellent eyesight and I could not only see, but appreciate, each and every curve that my Evie possessed.

There was nothing provocative about her skirt. It did not hug her hips, nor did it cling to her arse, but it stirred me none the less. I reasoned that my reaction to the garment was one that was due to my feelings for the woman who wore it, because it was modest in color and fit and length. The same could be said for her blouse, and there was certainly nothing that was even remotely sexy about her shoes…so why on earth was I having such a hard time drawing my eyes away from them?

It was my bad fortune that she chose that moment to turn around and face me, because I did not have the opportunity to assume the expression that she would expect from me in moments such as these. That meant that she caught me staring at her unabashedly, undoubtedly with a variety of improper emotions clear as day on my face and in my eyes, but if she had noticed, she kept it to herself, thankfully sparing my pride and sense of propriety.

"Good morning, Mr. Pennyworth," she said quietly, offering a small, sad smile in place of the sunny grin that she would have normally greeted me with. "I've just about finished the young master's breakfast tray, if you would like to carry it up to him."

It was custom for the Wayne family to break their fast in the informal dining room that was located nearest to the kitchen, but I wasn't inclined to pressure Master Bruce into what he would have done in the past, nor, it would seem, was Evie. I'd lost my father years before, and I could still recall the pain that had taken hold of me in the months that had followed that loss. The differences between the young master and myself were that I'd been a man when I'd lost my dad, and I'd still had my mum to turn to when I needed comforting. I couldn't imagine what the boy was going through, what he was feeling, but it had to have been awful, so much so that it was nearly unbearable to him.

"Good morning, Miss Ripley," I replied, returning her smile with one that was just as morose as the one that she had offered me, though most days would have found me offering none at all. "I apologize for my tardiness and for my disregard of the schedule this morning, given that it was my turn to cook. I appreciate you picking up the slack for me. It was very kind of you to do so….."

"Forgive me for interrupting, Mr. Pennyworth, but you've done nothing which warrants an apology," she said, clasping her arms behind her back in a way that emphasized the fullness of her bosom. "We have our schedule, we keep our schedule, but we also help one another when we need to, do we not?"

She was always so quick to excuse my behavior, even when I gave her ample reason to find fault with me, and there were times when I was tempted to be snippy with her, just to show her how disagreeable I could be…but this was not one of those times. I chose instead to cross the kitchen, ignoring the urge to lean close and take in a whiff of her perfume as I passed her, to gather the tray that she'd assembled for Master Bruce.

"This looks delicious, Miss Ripley," I murmured, taking the salver in hand as I offered a compliment which voiced my approval of not only her culinary talents, but of her artful assembly as well. "And it smells wonderful as well."

It occurred to me that I was making a spectacle of myself, behaving the way that I was, and that was all that it took to send me on a quick march out of the kitchen, but she answered me before I could take more than three steps away from her. She didn't seem to notice the light flush that I could feel on my cheeks, nor did she indicate that she thought I was acting a bit odd today. If anything she seemed pleased, and it delighted me, in spite of the hell that we'd landed in, to know that I could make her happy.

"Your plate will be waiting for you when you return, Mr. Pennyworth," she assured me, turning back to the oversized island, to finish assembling the two plates that she'd placed on the warmer. "I'll be sure to keep it hot for you, until you come back; you have my word on that."

Evangeline's POV

I'd never seen Alfred look so sad. I'd seen him angry plenty of times, and irritated. I'd also seen him patiently explaining something to Master Bruce, as a father would do with his son. I'd seen him in a mood that could almost be called jolly at Christmastime, when he'd had more than his fair share of rum and punch, but I couldn't recall another time since I'd known him when he'd looked so down in the dumps.

Everything inside of me longed to comfort him, to wrap my arms around him and hold him tightly, but I didn't, because I knew better than to do so. Alfred and I didn't touch one another, not unless we were dancing, and that only happened once a year. I would have loved to be able to touch him each and every day. I would love to be able to hold him and be held by him, I would love to kiss him, to be kissed by him, and know that I not only loved, but that I was also loved by him in return.

"How is Master Bruce this morning?" I asked softly, watching, and appreciating, the sight of him unfolding his napkin and readying himself to dive into his breakfast in a manner that would undoubtedly be thoroughly gentlemanlike in nature. "I was hoping that he might find some solace in his favorite breakfast, paltry comfort that it is….."

"We comfort in the way that we can," he murmured, interrupting me midsentence, which came as a complete surprise to me. "And I'm certain that he'll enjoy knowing that he was on your mind this morning."

It was obvious that Alfred was enjoying the breakfast that I'd made. I wouldn't say that the meal was _his_ personal favorite, but it was apparent from the look of pleasure that came over his face that he was definitely fond of blueberry pancakes, soaked liberally with butter and just a hint of maple syrup, then topped with fresh whipped cream. I saw the way his eyes closed with pleasure, and how he licked his lips after each and every bite…..

Oh, my. I shouldn't be taking notice of that, should I? Wasn't it enough that I'd taken count of his fifty-third smile, sad though it was? I didn't need to fixate on his lips, or his eyes, or the rough, tawny masculinity of his hands, which contrasted so beautifully with the pristine brilliance of his shirtsleeves, did I? It was things like this that almost made me forget my manners. These were the things that encouraged me to slip and call him by his Christian name. They were the thoughts and observances that made me ache in the most delicious and maddening way between my thighs…..

"His bed was still made, it was not mussed at all, and I found him standing by the window, peering outside," Alfred continued, bringing me out of my lovelorn and lustful reveries with a start. "I suspect that he didn't sleep a wink last night. I'm willing to bet that he stayed up all night, crying and staring out of that window. He acknowledged me when I spoke to him, and conveyed his thanks, not only to me, but to you as well, for the breakfast. I wish that I knew what to say to him, but I don't. All that I could feed him last night was the same rot that I'd have told him if he'd just slipped and fell on his arse in front of a crowd of people. I don't know how to be a comfort to him…or to anyone, for that matter….."

There was a moment of silence after he stopped speaking, one that made me want to reach across the table and take hold of his hand with mine, but just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. He cleared his throat self-consciously, and wiped his mouth with his napkin, looking all around the room, his eyes landing anywhere and everywhere but on me, before his gaze finally returned to my face.

"What plans had you laid out for yourself this morning, Miss Ripley?" he asked, in that tone that he always used when he was discussing business matters. "Do you have any urgent tasks that must be attended to today, or can they wait until tomorrow?"

On any other day when the cooking duties were Alfred's to fulfill, I would have found a breakfast tray waiting by my door when I woke at six. I would have broken my fast first thing, then I would have performed my morning ablutions and had my room straightened by a quarter 'til seven, in preparation for waking Mrs. Wayne at seven on the dot. I would have run her bath for her and helped her to make ready for the day, and then I would have tidied the bedchamber that she and Mr. Wayne shared once she'd gone down to breakfast at half past eight. That had been my morning routine for fifteen years, it had become a part of my life, yet today there was no need for me to do any of it, and I felt very sad, to think of what was gone. I felt useless and forlorn…and worst of all, I felt lost, with no one there to guide me.

"There are a few items that belong to Mrs. Wayne which need to be mended," I replied, wincing, to myself, when I heard the quavering that accompanied each and every one of my words. "And all of her cosmetics need to be seen to as well. She and I were going to spend the afternoon going through her boxes of photos, to fill the albums that she bought and…and….."

The quiver in my voice had grown, it had taken over, and as if that wasn't bad enough, I could feel tears building in my eyes, to join my wobbling lower lip. Dear God, wasn't it enough that I'd spent most of the night crying? Did I truly need to burst into tears all over again, in front of Alfred, of all people, who'd never bothered to hide the fact that he despised public displays of emotions from those around him?

"I won't make the choice for you, because it is not my place to do so, but I believe that all of that can wait until tomorrow," he said gruffly, with no hint of displeasure or aggravation, which came as a complete, and very pleasant, surprise to me. "I was thinking that I would contact the cleaning staff and tell them to hold off coming 'round, for a week at least. I will also give Greaves a ring and tell him that he needn't worry about Master Bruce's tutoring until we give him leave to come back. Does that sound right to you?"

He never asked me for my opinion. He always told me what was going to be done, always, and I had to admit, to myself at least, that it was very nice to know that he was willing to allow me to add my voice to the conversation.

"Yes, it does," I replied, lifting my trembling lips in a smile, to chase away the remnants of my tears.

"Well, I'll do that then, and once I've finished those calls I thought that I would contact the lawyers, and get them started on what they'll need to do. I thought that you might want to sit-in on that conversation, just in case you have any suggestions. Then, once we're done, we might see if Master Bruce would like to help you sort those pictures, and if he's not up to it, I'll give you a hand…if that would be alright with you."

Ah, there it was. Smile number fifty-four and such a handsome beam as well. It wasn't bright and sunny, as a matter of fact it was barely noticeable, but _I_ saw it, and I tucked it away in my memory, with all of the others. I was unaccustomed to being the center of his attention and his concern, but I enjoyed the moment, to be perfectly honest I _reveled_ in it, and it was all that I could do to keep those feelings to myself, when they wanted so badly to be shared.

"Perhaps we could sort them together, the three of us,' I whispered, blushing and glancing away from him. "If Master Bruce…and if _you_ would like to, that is….."

I worried for a moment that I'd taken things a step too far, I was afraid that I might have said too much, but then I heard him whisper, "Whatever makes you happy, Miss Ripley, is what I want to do."


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Evangeline's POV

I did not want to choose the dress that Mrs. Wayne would be buried in. If I made that choice, I would be forced to acknowledge that she was really and truly gone. It wasn't that I denied the fact that she'd been murdered. I knew that it was the truth that her life had been taken, along with that of her beloved husband, no matter how awful it was for me to do so. The thing that daunted me about admitting the reality of this new life that I was living was that I was the one who was responsible for taking care of Mrs. Wayne one last time, and I couldn't shake the fear that I was going to make a horrible mistake.

I'd laid the dress that I'd chosen on the bed that she'd shared with her husband, pairing it with the jewelry that I knew she'd want, and the heels that she'd chosen to wear with the gown. I knew that the Wayne's had requested a graveside funeral service, with closed coffins, in their will, and that was the only reason that I felt brave enough to choose the ensemble that I had for Mrs. Wayne…though, now that I thought about it, shouldn't she be clothed in what would have made her happiest, as opposed to what others would consider "proper attire"?

It was ironic that I should be thinking that way at that particular moment, because the door to Mr. and Mrs. Wayne's bedchamber opened just as the thought crossed my mind, and Alfred, who was always so particular about keeping everything "proper", strolled inside. It occurred to me that it would have been nice of him to knock before he entered, to give me a little warning, so I would be less inclined to jump as he made his way inside, but then I remembered that I wasn't in my own room, so it why should I expect that sort of courtesy?

"I didn't mean to frighten you," he said by way of greeting, an apology that was implied, rather than being spoken outright. "I just wanted to make sure that you would have everything ready to take to the funeral home this after….," he paused, and turned his attention to the ensemble that I'd laid out on the bed. "What, if I may ask, is _that_, Miss Ripley?"

His voice was still as quiet as it had been when he'd started speaking to me, but now there was a hint of something in his tone that told me that I'd managed to spark his temper. It wasn't a hard task, not really, because he had always been the sort who flew off the handle very easily, but it still irritated me that he would use that tone with me, especially since he'd paired it with the inflection that I'd overstepped the bounds and forgotten my place once more.

"It might help if I knew what you were referring to," I replied, even though I knew _exactly_ what he was referring to. "Is there something in particular that displeases you, Mr. Pennyworth, or is the entire ensemble that I have chosen offensive to you?"

I saw a muscle in his jaw convulse, once, then twice, as he cleared his throat and raised one eyebrow. "The _ensemble_, as you say, might work quite well if Mrs. Wayne were attending some sort of function with her husband, but given that she's being _buried_ beside him, I think that an evening gown and fancy heels are a rather, shall we say, _gauche_ choice of attire, wouldn't you agree, Miss Ripley?"

Why did his tone change when he spoke to me this way? He'd always had the sort of voice that could be called sexy in nature, but why would it become more so when he was talking down to me? Perhaps it was just my perception of how he sounded, but why on earth would I perceive him to be alluring when he was so determined to make me look, sound and feel like a fool?

"Mrs. Wayne purchased this gown to wear to the museum gala at the end of the month, but now she'll never have a chance to wear it," I explained, swallowing the need to raise my voice as I spoke, an effort that was almost physically painful to me. "Mr. Wayne was quite fond of the gown, he thought that she looked especially beautiful in it, therefore it seemed to me that it would be the best choice for her, wouldn't _you_ agree, Mr. Pennyworth?"

I'd never been in a bedroom with Alfred. There had never been any reason for me to do so, especially not in _this_ bedchamber, so I'd never realized how rousing it could be to me to be in such close, _intimate_ quarters. All of that ignorance was obliterated as he moved toward me, circling the huge bedstead, until he was standing right beside me. In that moment, when he was so close to me that our clothing was _almost_ touching, I became aware, achingly and stirringly so, of how thrilling it was, to be in the bedroom with him, and I prayed that he wouldn't take notice of what he did to me.

"It's a bloody _evening gown_, Miss Ripley," he growled, clenching his fists at his sides as he spoke, in an obvious bid to keep a firm grasp on his temper. "It doesn't matter that Mr. Wayne thought she looked gorgeous in it, it stands to reason that he thought that about each and every frock that she owned. The thing that matters right now are appearances, and I'll be damned if I'm going to stand back and allow you to truss her up in some getup that'll have people tittering and whispering behind their hands."

"They won't know what she's wearing," I hissed in response, once he'd paused to take a breath. "Both she and Mr. Wayne wanted a graveside service, with closed caskets, so would you care to _illuminate_ me with the manner in which those who attend the service will see into the casket and commence with their tittering and whispering? Will they use x-ray vision, Mr. Pennyworth, or are you anticipating their manners to be so appalling in nature that they'll simply stroll up to the casket and throw open the lid, so that they might have a good, long look at what Mrs. Wayne is wearing?"

My God…what on earth had come over me? There had been plenty of times when Alfred had successfully provoked my temper, but I couldn't recall a single instance where I'd ever had the nerve to give a voice to my anger. My heart was hammering in my chest as I met his gaze firmly with my own and I felt a little abashed when I saw the shock in his eyes, which clashed quite brilliantly with the irritation that had already been there, but I also felt a little flash of something that could only be called victory…as well as a tiny flutter of something in my stomach that I usually only felt when I thought about him late at night.

"For fifteen years you haven't so much as said boo to me, not even when I've made you so angry that you wanted to cry," he said softly, slowly closing the small amount of space that lay between us. "So where has this newfound bravado come from, Miss Ripley? Why aren't you scared of me anymore?"

To say that it was difficult to raise my eyes to his was an understatement, but somehow I managed to find the strength, or, as he would say, the _bravado_ to do so anyway. He had such beautiful eyes, a startlingly intense shade of blue that was always made more vivid when his emotions were running high. Those eyes did things to me, they made me _feel_ things that were improper, to say the very least, things that caused my heart to beat faster and caused the oddest, most delicious trembling to make itself known between my thighs.

"I've never been scared of you, Mr. Pennyworth," I murmured, relaxing my guard, to ensure that he would be able to see what I was feeling reflected in my eyes. He must have saw something that affected him, because he took a deep, shuddering breath, and started to lean toward me, only to stop at the last moment as he remembered himself. "I have always sided with you, and shown you the utmost respect, because I knew that you deserved to have someone on your team who was loyal and could be trusted to back your play. I am still that woman, Mr. Pennyworth. I still admire and respect you, and I want to please you, but I am the one who has taken care of Mrs. Wayne for the past fifteen years, therefore I believe that I am the one should choose….."

"I inherited my position from my father, Miss Ripley," he said, interrupting me mid-speech. "He served the Wayne family, both those you know and those you didn't, for fifty years of his life. He was the one who recommended me as his replacement, and I knew that the fact that he did so spoke volumes about the level of trust and respect that he held for me. I fear that I might have allowed that responsibility to go to my head somewhat, so much so that I am inclined to behave in an off-putting and arrogant fashion. I am pleased, and relieved, to know that you don't fear me, Miss Ripley. And just so you know, I have always admired and respected you as well. You have always been my staunchest supporter and you've backed me even when you had reason to oppose me….."

Alfred had never been one for apologies, unless it dawned on him, in the heat of his anger, that he could have genuinely hurt someone. That being said, I recognized his words for what they were, and the fact that he had opened up to me, of his own accord, and shared part of himself with me meant more to me than the missing "I'm sorry" ever could.

"I will always support you, Mr. Pennyworth," I murmured, wishing that I had the nerve to call him Alfred out loud, so he could hear the tone that I used when I spoke his name…so he would know how much I cared. "I will always admire and respect you…even when you do and/or say things that could be construed as arrogant and off-putting…and I hope that you will show me the same admiration and respect…and trust…by allowing me to continue to care for Mrs. Wayne in the way that I know she would like."

His fifty-fifth smile was small, as most were, given that he rarely indulged in a full-fledged beam, but it was reflected in his eyes, which said that it was genuine in nature. It was a sight that made my heart flip-flop about once or twice, while the shiver that he seemed to bring to life between my thighs became a tiny constant throbbing.

"Eh, what does a crusty old geezer like me know about what a lady would prefer?" he murmured, raising his hand, as if he meant to touch me, before he shook his head and dropped it down to his side once more. "Mrs. Wayne trusted you…_I_ trust you….."

I would have liked to have reached for his hand, to raise it to my cheek and place it there, while I did my best to assure him, with actions and with words, that he was not crusty or old. I would have liked to tell him how he knew plenty when it came to the preferences of a lady, but the sound of the bedroom door opening interrupted the moment and made both of us leap away from the other, like a couple of guilty parties who'd been caught in an iniquitous act.

"I should have knocked," a soft voice said, before Alfred could chastise him for not doing so. "I meant to, but I was thinking about the funeral and I forgot….."

"There's no need for you to apologize, Master Bruce," I said, moving away from Alfred, even though I hated to do so, to cross the room. "Was there something that you needed…oh, heavens…I forgot all about tea, didn't I?"

Now I was the one who expected to be reprimanded by Alfred, but he didn't say a word. He moved away from the bed, to stand beside me, and there was nothing in his stance, or his demeanor, to indicate that he was still irritated with me. I knew that he had noticed the boy's reddened eyes, the same as I had, and I was grateful that he, like me, had elected not to mention it to the young master.

"That's alright, Vangie, I'm not really hungry," Bruce said softly, looking past me, and past Alfred, to the bed that his parents had shared, or, more specifically, to the dress that was spread out on top of the quilt. "Is that the dress that Mom was going to wear to the museum gala?"

"Yes, it is, Master Bruce." I replied, feeling slightly nervous, because I couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling.

"Is that what she'll be…buried…in?"

"It is the dress that I chose, Master Bruce…unless you object."

He almost smiled in response. The corners of his mouth almost lifted, but in the end they didn't move. "I think that Mom would like this choice, Vangie," he whispered, nodding once before he turned to leave the room. "She loved that dress, and Dad loved it more. I think that she should have the chance to wear it at least once, don't you?"

Alfred's POV

The funeral was short and small, a graveside service with closed coffins, just as the Wayne's had wanted it to be. Master Bruce stood close to his parents and I took my place behind him, flanked by the mayor and Miss Ripley. I didn't like standing so close to the "honorable" man who supposedly ran this town; I didn't want to run the risk of his stench wearing off on me. I tried to convince myself that my loathing of him, and the fear that the reeking odor of his corruption might rub off on me was the reason that I moved to stand closer to Miss Ripley, but I'd never been one for lying, so it was a pitiful attempt, to say the very least.

I could hear Evie crying, very softly, _discreetly_, you might say, and I longed to put my arm around her and bring her close to my side, but I didn't dare do so. Those who were present at the funeral would not be given any reason to whisper or titter about Mrs. Wayne's dress, there was no way that they'd ever be able to see that, but I would be damned before I'd give them ammunition to use against me…or Evie.

She was clutching a hankie in her hand, and I watched, from the corner of my eye, as she used it to wipe away the tears that slid down her cheeks. I couldn't say how long I watched her, it might have been minutes, or perhaps only a second or two, but I _could_ say that she caught me in the act. I saw her cheeks turn red, and I recognized the expression that said that she assumed that I'd be displeased with her, and it hurt me to know that she had every right to make that supposition, given the way that I had behaved in the past.

The service ended and I stepped forward, to place my hand on Master Bruce's shoulder, so he would know that it was time for us to leave. Evie and I waited for him to pass, and she paused further, to allow me to go first, but I had already made up my mind to do something that I would have never even considered in the past. I stayed where I was and offered her my arm. I held my breath while I waited for her to decide whether she'd accept the gesture or not, a gulp of air that I released, slowly and forcefully, when she slipped her hand into the crook of my arm.

We didn't have to move quickly to catch up to the young master, even though he'd taken several steps before we joined him, but I was not inclined to hurry him along, and I knew that Evie wasn't either. I could feel the warmth of her fingers pressed against my bicep, even though my coat and jacket and shirt were covering my flesh, and I reveled in it, just as I reveled in our one dance a year, which afforded me the privilege of holding her in my arms. I suppose that it might have been wrong for me to feel that way, especially when you considered the fact that we were at a funeral service, but I enjoyed it none the less…until I saw who was waiting to speak with the young master.

It didn't bother me to see the optimistic young detective, I thought that it was a respectful gesture for him to make, but his partner was another story altogether. Everything about him shouted that he was not the same sort of man that Detective Gordon was. He was a shifty sort, the kind of arsehole who'd offer you an oily smile to your face as he drove a dagger into your back. He didn't even have the decency to remove his hat, even though her was of an age to know better, and I didn't like the way that he was looking at my Evie…though I must admit that I _did_ like the way that she leaned closer to me when she noticed his leering eyes.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Alfred's POV

I knew that it had always, and would always be considered impolite to eavesdrop upon a private conversation, especially if you were doing so _after_ you snuck up on those who were conversing, but I simply could not help but do so. I'd initially been too far away to catch every word that was being shared by the trio of maids who'd arrived this afternoon to tidy the place up, but the fact that they were whispering suggested that I needed to investigate further. As I'd drawn nearer it became obvious that they were engaging in gossip about the Waynes, a revelation that had infuriated me, and I'd been all set to give them a piece of my mind…but then Evie had stepped out of the shadows and proceeded to show me that she had the situation well in hand.

"Please feel free to correct me if I'm mistaken, ladies, but I believe that you are paid to clean, not to stand idly around, gossiping about your employers, is that right?"

It would seem that Corinne Hamilton was the leader of the trio, whether elected or self-appointed, because while the other ladies blushed and looked properly abashed, she rounded on Evie in the manner of a mongoose eyeing a cobra. She'd always been a tad too high in the instep for my taste, and I'd longed to find a suitable reason to terminate her from her position, but she'd been careful to mind her p's and q's when it counted.

"We're entitled to take a break, it says so in our contract, just in case you didn't know that," she said slowly, drawing out each word, as if she was speaking to a small child…or an adult who wasn't quite as swift as they ought to be. "And besides which, you don't tell us what to do, Alfred does, and he's never said that we can't have a little conversation with our breaks."

I had a beautiful view of the left side profile of Evie's face from my vantage point, and I found that I was transfixed by the sight of her temper as it slowly filled her eyes, making what was usually softly and shyly dark in hue much more tempestuous in nature. I wouldn't have believed that anger could be so alluring, but it was a mesmerizing sight to behold in her…especially since her feelings were not aimed in my direction.

"Yes, Miss Hamilton, I am well aware of the fact that you and your co-workers are entitled to a break with each of your shifts, and while no one would fault you for having a chat during your break, I feel that it is safe to say that _Mr. Pennyworth_ would frown upon the choice of topic that I overheard. I have served the Wayne family for fifteen years, and they are very dear to me, so while it may not be my place to 'tell you what to do', it _is_ my place to ensure that they are shown the respect that they deserve. I won't presume to speak for Mr. Pennyworth, because it is _not_ my place to do so, but I am confident that he would want me to remind you of the standards that he expects….."

"There's nothing in our contract that says that we can't talk about whatever we damn well please to talk about," Miss Hamilton interrupted, abandoning the tone that suggested that she was struggling to be polite to the person who was so pathetically dimwitted, in lieu of one that mirrored who she really was, when there was no one around to impress. "It only said that we were 'discouraged' from 'gossiping' about the family outside of the home. We are not _outside_ the home right now, we are _inside_ of it, so I think that we can talk about whatever we want to talk about. Now, why don't you shuffle off and find something meaningful to do, before I let Alfred know that you're too busy minding our business to do your job…though I suppose now you're out of a job, aren't you, since Old Lady Wayne is dead?"

I knew that Evie was capable of taking care of herself, and there was no doubt in my mind that she would have put Miss Hamilton in her place with no trouble at all. That being said, I was the one who was in charge in circumstances such as these, and therefore it was time for me to step in. I could tell by the look that was on Evie's face that I ought to do so as quickly as possible, before she reacted in a way that would prove hasty and foolhardy in the end…though I was loathe to do so, because it would give me great pleasure to see her bring Miss Hamilton down by a notch or two.

"Oh, I don't know, Miss Hamilton," I murmured, though everything inside of me longed to shout the words instead. "From what I heard, I believe that Miss Ripley is doing her job quite nicely, just as I would expect her to, while you are practically dancing on the edge of what separates those who are gainfully employed from those who aren't."

The look that came over Miss Hamilton's face was quite comical to observe, as were the matching expressions of shock and shame that her cohorts were sporting, but I paid them little mind. In most circumstances I would have waited to speak to Evie until we were alone, but I decided that what I had to say about her needed to be heard by witnesses, more specifically, by these three women, who'd had the nerve to behave in such an abominable fashion.

"I can't say with any certainty how you were raised, Miss Hamilton, nor you, Miss Crane, or you, Miss Alvarez, but if you were brought up with any sort of manners at all, then you'll know that it's bloody rude, and, at times, perilous to your occupation, to spread vile gossip about your employers. And when you choose to behave that way after said employers have been murdered, when you do so in _their_ home, where their _son_ might overhear…well, that's just downright despicable. I feel confident in making the observation that Miss Ripley was raised in a proper manner, by those who taught her to be a decent, respectable human being, and she had every right to call you out for your behavior on my behalf….."

"This has all been a huge misunderstanding," Miss Hamilton said, interrupting me mid-spiel in a tone that she'd probably spent all of her formative years honing to perfection, the soft, breathy type of voice that some females used when they were trying to turn a man around to their way of thinking. "If you'll just let me explain everything to you, I'm sure that you'll see that we didn't mean any harm..."

"Oh, I don't know," I said softly, thoroughly insulted by the fact that she thought I could be swayed so easily. "I'm pretty sure that I understood each and everything that I saw and heard as what it was, Miss Hamilton, and no _explanation_ from you is going to sway me away from the truth. Your employers were generous people, whether those who benefitted from their kindness deserved it or not, and as such they gave you and your cronies here several chances which you oughtn't to have received…but I am not so generous, ladies. I will not be giving you any further opportunities to prove how petty you can be, because you will not be coming back to Wayne Manor, but I will allow you to have ten minutes to collect your belongings and vacate the premises, before I contact the authorities to remove you."

They wanted to argue with me, to plead with me, but there must have been something in my expression which warned them off of doing so. This was something that had been coming for a long time, and I was glad that it was finally over. I had a good idea that the firm which employed the ladies, and I use that term very loosely, would jump through hoops to make certain that this incident wasn't repeated. I couldn't imagine that there were many clients who would rate above the Waynes, and the company would be hesitant to do or say anything which might result in the loss of the contract between them and the estate.

I watched them as they gathered their things, the ringleader doing so with angry words that she spat in my direction, the others with tears streaming down their cheeks. I could feel Evie's eyes on me, I could sense her shock, but I knew that she would not speak to me first. I knew that I would be the one who would have to turn to her, and I had no problem with that, but I wasn't going to do so until the others were gone. I suppose that it might have been a little hypocritical of me to want privacy, given that I'd been eavesdropping on them, but I could live with that, and I was fairly certain that Evie could as well.

I waited until the front door had shut behind them, followed by the door to the car they'd arrived in, and the chime that sounded as they passed over one of the pressure plates that rested in the drive, and then, once I was certain that they were gone, I turned to look at Evie. I had to admit, to myself, at least, that I was a little amazed that she'd managed to stay quiet for so long. I knew that she had wanted to speak out many times, that she'd wanted to tell me what she was thinking, and I was surprised, shocked really, that she'd managed to keep her thoughts and feelings to herself.

"You might as well out with it, Miss Ripley," I murmured, crossing my arms behind my back. "You're bound to explode if you keep it in much longer."

She moved toward me very slowly and stopped right in front of me. I could smell her perfume, the scent that I knew she applied very subtly, which spoke of how close she was standing to me. She started to raise her hand, moving it toward my arm, and I found myself holding my breath in anticipation of her touch, but sadly it never came. She remembered herself at the last moment and dropped her hand, mimicking my position by crossing her arms behind her back and I tried, in vain, to ignore the way that her doing so thrust her breasts out in the most enticing fashion.

"I know that it wasn't my place to take Miss Hamilton to task for her behavior," she began, using a soft, hesitant tone that caused me to feel things that Miss Hamilton couldn't stir to life, not even if she were stark naked while she was speaking. "I know that I overstepped my bounds, Mr. Pennyworth, and I apologize for doing so, but she had no right to say what she did about the Wayne family….."

"Didn't I already say that you had every right to do what you did?" I asked, interrupting her before she could continue to offer me an apology which wasn't needed nor warranted. "I am very proud of you for what you did, Miss Ripley, you showed great honor and integrity, as well as loyalty and bravery, and you have my most sincere thanks for acting in my stead."

I couldn't understand why she was looking at me the way that she was, and I certainly couldn't fathom why she was on the verge of crying. Women were peculiar creatures, delicate in ways which were foreign to all men, and most times I would have reminded her that it was very improper for her to display her emotions so freely. For some reason, I couldn't find the words that would be necessary for calling attention to her lapse in decorum. The sight of her eyes, brimming with tears, made me want to reach out to her instead, to comfort her…but I couldn't, could I? I didn't dare do so, did I?

"What did I say?" I asked, casting caution to the wind by closing the minute bit of space that kept us apart, until I could feel the softness of her chest touching me. Her arms were behind her back, and mine were as well, so I wasn't holding her, not exactly, but she seemed to take solace from the contact as if it were a proper embrace. "It is obvious that I have upset you, given that you are on the verge of tears, and maybe I'm a little dense, Miss Ripley, but I can't think of anything that I said that might have hurt your feelings….."

She chuckled, very softly, as one tear made a slow trek down her cheek. That reaction was one that served to confuse me even more, and I started to shake my head, in the hope of clearing it somewhat, but then she leaned against me. It still wasn't a hug, not exactly, because we were both holding our arms behind our backs, but it made my heart stutter in its beating just the same.

"You're a dear man beneath that gruff exterior, aren't you, Mr. Pennyworth?" she murmured, slowly lowering her arms to rest by her sides. "You try to hide it, but I've caught sight of it from time to time in spite of your best efforts."

I could not answer her. It was difficult to speak when you were holding your breath, and I'd been doing so ever since she lowered her arms to her sides. I slowly let my own arms fall, and released the breath that I'd held inside. I couldn't say what encouraged me to be so bold, but I felt my hands moving forward of their own accord, not stopping until the fronts of my fingers were caressing hers. I waited, searching her eyes with my own, so sure that she would pull away from me, and felt a surge of awareness course through me, mixed liberally with pleasure, when she stayed where she was.

"I think that 'dear' might be stretching the truth a bit," I told her, moving my hands up and down, in a gentle caress against hers. "But you have a way about you that makes me smooth down the rough edges."

I saw her throat working as she swallowed, I felt her chest rise and fall as she took, and then released, a long, deep breath, and a fluttery feeling took hold of me all over when she turned her hand over. Her eyes held onto mine as she stroked the back of my hand with her fingertips and rubbed her palm against me, until I couldn't resist the urge to turn my own hand around. Her hand was much smaller than mine, it was delicate and soft and I started to twine my fingers with hers…and then the damned chime resounded through the house, alerting us to the fact that a car was coming up the drive.

"Bloody hell," I muttered as she jumped away from me and started blushing and stammering an apology. "Shush it with that talk, Miss Ripley," I told her, before she could say anything that would ruin my memories of this moment when I ruminated on them as I drifted off to sleep tonight. "And kindly hold onto that thought that you had, if you will, because we're not done with it just yet."

Evangeline's POV

My God, what a day this had turned out to be, one that had been filled with a rollercoaster of emotions, and that was what had led me to the kitchen at midnight. I knew that Breyers ice cream would never be recommended by any physician as a medicinal way to ease your troubled mind, but _I_ knew that it could work wonders. I'd just closed the freezer door of the huge Frigidaire refrigerator, and turned around to lean against it, with the open carton of chocolate chip in one hand, and a spoon of said ice cream, plunged into my mouth, in the other, when I caught sight of _him_ standing just inside the doorway.

He'd removed his vest and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, in addition to unfastening and rolling up the sleeves of said shirt, but other than that he looked perfectly presentable. I, on the other hand, looked positively disheveled, given that I'd traveled straight from my bed, where I'd tossed and turned for two hours, to the kitchen for a much needed sugary treat. He'd never seen me as I was at that moment, with my hair down and wearing nothing but my version of pajamas. At any other time I would have had the sense to open the freezer door and jump behind it, to hide myself from view, but for some infuriating reason I was frozen in place, so he got a good, long look at me instead.

I thought of how I must have looked to him and the blush on my face deepened, it intensified, until it felt like my face was on fire. How in the hell could he look so composed at midnight, slightly ruffled, but otherwise perfectly sexy, while I undoubtedly personified "a thoroughly improper hot mess"? Why, oh why did he have to pay a visit to the kitchen at midnight? Why couldn't he have given me thirty minutes to eat ice cream straight from the carton, before I guiltily stumbled to bed before he came into the room? Then he wouldn't have discovered me with my messy hair, wearing nothing but a baggy t-shirt and a pair of boy shorts, with a spoonful of said ice cream melting in my mouth and running out of the corners of my mouth, would he?

I suppose that I should have expected the day to end with a bang, given the way things had gone with Miss Hamilton and her cohorts. I should have known that I wouldn't find any peace and quiet after the visit from Detective Gordon that had drawn Alfred's attention to the fact that Master Bruce was perched on the edge of the roof, as if he meant to jump. Needless to say, that had provoked my dear Mr. Pennyworth's temper and this day would definitely find a place in my book of hellish days…but only after I'd placed it at the top of my list of heavenly days. I suppose that it wouldn't make sense to some people, how a day could be both hellish _and_ heavenly, but perhaps they'd never experienced unrequited love, and wouldn't know what it meant to receive not only praise from the one that you adored, but also a brief, yet thrilling moment of physical contact, when such things were usually off-limits to you…..

Oh, God…I'd allowed my mind to wander while I was standing there, frozen in place, hadn't I? It wasn't until he started moving across the kitchen toward me, with a small smile, number fifty-six, curving his lips that I realized that the spoon was still in my mouth. I pulled it out as quickly as I could and hid it behind my back for some odd reason, and felt the blush on my face intensify further, until it was almost painful to me, when I realized that I'd, for lack of a better descriptive, _drooled_ chocolate chip ice cream out of the corners of my mouth.

It occurred to me that I ought to try to lick away the ice cream as surreptitiously as possible. That way I might spare myself the indignity of him seeing me in such an unbecoming condition up-close, but how on earth did one stick out their tongue without being seen by someone who was looking right at them? It couldn't be done, thus I left the mess right where it was and did my best to resist the urge to cry like a ninny as he came to a stop right in front of me.

I had to give him credit for keeping his eyes on mine, but then, why should he feel the need to sneak a peek when he'd gotten an eyeful already? I waited for his face to take on the stern expression that it always assumed when he delivered a blistering lecture, but it never appeared. He chose, instead, to widen his smile, so much so that it showed in his eyes. I felt that beam caress its way over my body, just as if it had taken on a physical form and it was all that I could do, to keep myself from shivering and shimmying in response.

"Good evening," he said softly, in that deep, raspy voice that never failed to elicit a response from me which was thoroughly inappropriate in nature, even when his tone was an angry one. "You're up rather late, aren't you?"

I might have said the same to him, if I'd had the ability to speak, but since I didn't, I nodded instead. He was staring down at my face, still smiling, and he made the sight even more stirring to me by drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the ice cream that had dribbled out of my mouth. My heart was racing, matching the throbbing between my thighs beat for beat, and I would have loved to have grabbed hold of his hand, so I could lick the sweetness off of his thumb, but thankfully I managed to resist the urge to do so.

"Yes, Mr. Pennyworth," I whispered, wincing, to myself, when I heard the trembling in my voice.

I didn't notice whether or not he wiped his fingers on his pants to clean them, but knowing him as I did, I knew that it was unlikely that he'd done so. He did not lick them clean either, not that I'd expected him to, but I wouldn't have been the least bit offended, had he chosen to do so.

"Don't you think that the time for addressing me so formally has passed?" he asked, curling his thumbs against his palms and using his fingers to smooth my hair away from my face. "After all, we've known one another for fifteen years, and it seems to me that you could…that is, I would like for you to call me Alfred, please."

Oh, God. He was touching me, _deliberately_ touching me, and he wanted me to call him by his name. I'd been doing so for years, but only inside, where I could hear, and now he'd given me permission to do so out loud. I wasn't sure that I would be able to do so without revealing my feelings for him, but that was a risk that I was willing to take…provided that he was willing to do the same.

"Only if you will call me Evangeline," I replied, curling my hands, in a bid to keep them off of his arms and closing my eyes in a wince when I heard the spoon that I'd been hiding behind my back clatter to the floor.

"That's a bit of a mouthful," he murmured, paying no mind to the spoon, as if he hadn't noticed it, even though I knew he had. "You've always been Evie to me, in my thoughts, where no one else could hear, and I'd like to call you that instead, if I may."

Evie _was_ better, it was friendlier, it was more intimate in nature, and it sent a thrill through me to know that he thought of me that way, that he'd been doing so for some time. I wanted to tell him that it was fine for him to address me that way, I would have loved to have possessed the ability to do so in a soft and sultry tone of voice, but all that I could do was nod…again.

"That's good…Evie," he said, in a tone that was whisper soft and personified sexy. _He_ found the ability to speak quite easily, as if he wasn't affected by me at all…though the words that followed belied his composed demeanor. "Now, please return to your bed, if you would be so kind, while I still possess the ability to behave like a gentleman. There's nothing that I would like more than to continue the discussion that we were having earlier, but I have my limits and I'll be damned if I'm going to run the risk of overstepping them while everything is so new between us….."

There was nothing that _I_ wanted more than to tell him to hell with the limits, right before I threw myself into his arms, but I knew that it wouldn't be fair for me to do so. He was an old-fashioned sort, just as I was, and I knew that he was referring to a romance between us when he spoke of what was new. There was nothing that I loved more than a good romance, one that built slowly, kindling the fire bit by bit, until it flamed out of control. That was what I wanted with Alfred, and I wasn't about to spoil it by giving in to my raging libido…even though it was so damned tempting to me to do so.

"Goodnight, Alfred," I murmured, placing my hands on his arms and squeezing, just as I'd wanted to before, then watching, spellbound, as he took one of my hands in his and raised it to his lips, pressing a soft and very proper kiss to my knuckles.

"Goodnight, Evie," he replied, his breath warm and stirring against my skin as he lingered for a moment, then moved away from me with a sound that I would have sworn was a groan. "Now go…before I change my mind."


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Evangeline's POV

Who would have ever thought that Alfred Pennyworth had a romantic heart? Granted, I'd always liked to believe that there was a spark that resided, well-hidden, within him, but I'd never allowed myself to put too much stock in the notion outside of my fantasies. Now I knew that he was that man, and it was the sort of knowledge that had the ability to make me weak in the knees, because he wanted to show his romantic side to me…because I was the one who brought that side of him to life.

I was supposed to be straightening my room, and I suppose one could say that I was doing so, to a degree, but I knew better. I knew that my dresser only needed one polishing, so the five that I'd given it was a tad bit excessive, to say the very least. I'd only made my bed once, but then I'd circled it, smoothing the comforter and straightening the decorative pillows that rested against the headboard numerous times, even though I knew that everything was just as it ought to be.

He'd left a tiny vase, one of the good crystal ones which were strictly for use with the Wayne family and guests, on my breakfast tray that morning. It wasn't out of the ordinary for him to do that sort of thing with Master Bruce's meals, as a matter of fact it was one of those little touches that he insisted on, but he'd never placed one on _my_ tray…not until today…and try though I might, I couldn't stop admiring it. I had a good idea that it was the flower that it held, a delicate and beautiful pink camellia, that had truly caught my attention, but the vase played an important role as well.

It would be three nights tonight since he'd found me in the kitchen, and in that time I had halfway expected him to make overt attempts to, if you'll excuse the old-fashioned term, court me, but he'd kept the flirting to a minimum. He _did_ smile at me more often, so much so that the count was up to seventy, and he'd taken to caressing the back of my hand with his fingertips when he passed me in the hall, so I was a happy woman, to be sure…that is, I would have been, if there hadn't been so much sadness in the house.

I could not say whether or not Master Bruce was grieving in a manner that was to be expected. I was fortunate enough to have both of my parents, and therefore I had no idea how long it would be before his pain started to fade somewhat. I _could_ say that I was worried about him, and that Alfred was as well. I had an idea that he was hurting himself, that he was experimenting on himself in ways which could prove harmful, but what could be done to stop him if he was bound and determined to cause himself pain?

As if on cue, the door to my bedroom swung open with enough force to send it smacking against the wall. The contact made a loud _thwacking_ sound, one that reverberated throughout the entire room, one which scared me half to death and made me jump in the air as I made a noise that was very embarrassing, to say the very least.

I might have been tempted to give Master Bruce a good talking to for scaring me, not to mention the fact that he hadn't shown me the courtesy of knocking before he entered my room. I might have been unable to resist the urge to use a tone that was thoroughly scolding in nature as I did so as well, but one look at his face was all that I needed to put those thoughts to rest.

"What happened, Master Bruce?" I asked worriedly, all of my anger vanishing in a heartbeat when I realized that something had happened, that something or some_one_ had frightened him. "You're white as a sheet and shaking from head-to-toe….."

"I burned myself," he said quietly, in a distant, monotone voice that made him sound like a stranger. "Alfred told me to show my hand to you, he said that you would dress it for me…he said that he needed some time to himself, and it would be best if I asked you to help me instead of depending on him….."

He was looking at the ground as he spoke to me, refusing to meet my eyes with his own, and with a grimace of what might have been self-disgust, paired with just a touch of defiance, he held out his hand and showed me his injury. It looked like the sort of wound that one got deliberately. An accidental burn would not have taken so much of his skin, and for one brief moment I felt my temper flare to life, but thankfully I managed to tamp it down before I said or did anything that I would undoubtedly regret.

"I imagine that Alfred needed some time to himself because he was angry," I murmured, crossing the floor, to my bathroom, with the boy close behind me. "Is that why he didn't dress your wound himself, Master Bruce?"

I knew that Alfred had a fearsome temper. I knew that he could be quite intimidating when he wanted to be, and he tended to shout rather than whisper when his ire was running high. I also knew that he was a good man, one who'd just as soon sever his hand from his body with a rusted teaspoon than to strike the boy that he'd watched over since the day of his birth, and that was why I knew that he hadn't done anything to physically harm the young master…I just wished that the same could be said for the boy's heart and mind.

"He…umm…he _surprised_ me by coming into the room," Bruce said, raising his eyes to mine, for just a moment, before he lowered them to rest on the wound in the center of his palm. "I thought that I would have the time, and the privacy, to test myself…I wouldn't have done what I did, not if I'd known that he would catch me."

"I don't believe that there was any reason for you to 'test' your skin by burning it," I told him, turning on the cold water and holding the young master's hand beneath the stream. "And the reason that I believe that is because it is a proven fact, one that has been known for many, many years, that fire has the ability to burn skin, that it has the ability to destroy it. You are a very intelligent young man, Master Bruce, so why on earth would you deliberately set out to prove your own common sense wrong?"

His face took on the sort of expression that my mother would say was _mulish_ in nature and his dark eyes flashed angrily. "I wasn't testing whether or not my skin could be burned, Vangie," he replied, in a tone that suggested that he ought to have been rolling his eyes, though they didn't move at all. "I'm not an idiot."

I held his hand beneath the water as he tried to move away. "I know that you're not an idiot, Master Bruce. I never suggested that you were. I would never even consider doing so, because I know better. But if you weren't burning yourself in order to 'test' the vulnerability of your flesh, why on earth were you….?"

"I wanted to see how much pain I could withstand," he said, curling his fingers, to hide his wound, until I gave him the look that I'd learned from my mother, the one that paired perfectly with a raised eyebrow and let the recipient know that they were in imminent danger of a very thorough scolding. I halfway expected the young master to argue with me, given his frame of mind, but apparently I had inherited my mother's ability to intimidate with a single look, because he sighed and opened his hand. "That was the test, Vangie. I wanted to see how strong I was…but Alfred interrupted me."

"The ability to withstand physical pain has nothing whatsoever to do with strength," I told him, raising my hand, to lay my palm on the back of his head, so I could smooth his hair, just as I had when he was a little boy. "The source of your strength is inside you, Master Bruce. It cannot be reached from the outside. It _can_ be affected by people, by events, by circumstances. It can be tested and tried, and there will be times when you are certain that it has left you completely…but it hasn't. There are those who are not as strong as others, but you are not one of them, Master Bruce….."

"I _am_ one of them!" he shouted, jerking his head away from my touch. "If I was strong, my mom and dad wouldn't have died! If I was strong, they would still be here! It is my fault that they're not, and I'm going to make sure that nothing like that ever happens again. It's none of your business what I do, and it's none of Alfred's either…I should have told him that, but he scared me, and that means that I _am_ weak, doesn't it, Vangie?"

I took a deep breath and slowly released it as I moved my palm back to his head. I fully expected him to move away from me again. Perhaps he would do so in an angry fashion this time, instead of one that was simply defiant, but he didn't move away from me. He leaned against my hand instead, as he would have when he was a little boy, and his bottom lip trembled, just a bit, as I gently stroked his hair.

"It's very difficult to stop a man with a gun when you're armed with nothing but your hands, Master Bruce," I murmured, inwardly cursing the evil, cowardly bastard who'd stolen the Waynes away from those who loved them. "Your parents loved you so much, they were proud of you and they wouldn't want you to blame yourself for what happened. They don't hold you responsible for their deaths, and neither do Alfred or I. We love you as well, Master Bruce. We are proud of you, and we worry about you, whether you believe that we should do so or not…and we will continue to look after you, because there's no way that either of us can stop, so please don't suggest that we should."

Alfred's POV

I heard the door open and I knew that it was her. It wasn't just the sound of the door opening that gave her away, so softly and quietly, so as not to disturb me. It wasn't the subtle hint of her perfume, the one that would linger for moments after she was gone. It wasn't even the sound of her footsteps, hesitantly crossing the floor. I could feel her on my skin, I could sense her in every breath that I took, and everything within me told me to turn and seek solace in her arms, even though I knew she would run from me as soon as she knew what I had done.

My Evie was a compassionate, loving person. She was a discerning judge of character, and she would undoubtedly say that the way that I'd acted was not a reflection of the man that I was, but that wouldn't stop her from leaving me, would it? She loved the young master, she'd been a second mother to him after his birth, and it would anger her, it would _disgust_ her to know that I'd lost my temper with him, even as she reasoned that I hadn't done so because of what sort of man I was. Why should I seek the soft comfort of her arms for the first time, when I knew that the contact would be fleeting and leave me feeling emptier than before?

"You ran his hand under cool water to reduce any swelling?" I asked, not turning from the window, even though I knew that it was rude of me to speak to her while my back was turned. "And cleaned the wound afterward?"

I was only questioning her because the silence in the room was so difficult to withstand. Evie wasn't merely competent at doctoring, she was thorough and nurturing as well, and I knew that she would have seen to the boy's wound with nothing left undone. I fully expected my words to offend her, so much so that she would stop and stare at my back while she struggled to compose herself, but she didn't keep her distance. She continued to move toward me until she was standing right behind me, and then, wonder of wonders; she reached out to lay her hand, very gently, on my arm.

"Yes, I did," she murmured, curling her fingers, caressing me in a way that made me take a deep, shuddering breath. "And then I treated the wound with an aloe vera salve, I covered it with a gauze pad and I wrapped his hand with an elastic bandage."

"In other words, you did just as you were supposed to, just as I knew you would," I told her, relishing the warmth of her hand. "And while you treated his wound, you comforted him, not only because he'd been hurt, but also because he seemed to be upset about something…frightened and disturbed….."

My voice trailed away as I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. In all of my life with him, my father had never raised a hand to me in anger. He'd never spanked me, or slapped me; he'd never placed his hands on my shoulders and shook me. Granted, I'd seen his temper, and I'd received my fair share of punishment, but he'd never done so in a physical manner, and I knew that he would be disappointed in me if he knew that I'd done so with Master Bruce.

"Yes, I rubbed his hair, the way I did when he was a little boy," she confirmed. "He resisted me doing so to begin with, because he was angry, in addition to his fear and his defiance, but eventually he allowed me to console him…and I wish that you would allow me to do the same for you, Alfred."

I closed my eyes, tightly, and took another of those deep breaths which were doing nothing to soothe me. "I don't need any consolation, Evie," I replied, wincing when I heard that the tone of my voice did nothing whatsoever to mask my lie. "And what's more, I don't deserve it….."

She pulled on my arm, turning me around so easily that it ought to have humiliated me, and so it might have done, had I not been so desperate to look into her eyes. I was scared of what I might see staring back at me, I was afraid that I would see a hint of emotions that belied her words, but there were none to be seen. She looked at me with care and compassion…and something else, something that was soft and sweet, and it killed me, even as it thrilled me, because I knew that I wasn't worthy of it…or her.

"Would you please stop being so stubborn and come here?" she asked, closing the space between us and rising onto her tiptoes to slide her arms around my neck. "You need a hug; _I_ need a hug, so why shouldn't we have one?"

Oh, God…she felt so damned good. I knew that I didn't have any right to return the embrace, but that didn't stop me from wrapping my arms around her and hugging her as close as I could. She was so soft and so warm. She felt good, she smelled good and she held me in a way that said that she cared about me. I couldn't remember the last time that I'd been felt anything like the way that she was holding me at that moment…and then it dawned on me that I'd never felt anything like this before.

"I lost my temper," I whispered, slowly running my hands up and down her back, before I squeezed her tight. "I was rough with him, grabbing him, scaring him, and then I called him….."

"A 'stupid little boy'," she finished, running her hand upward and turning her head, until her face was resting right beside my throat. "And then you hugged him, and told him that you were sorry…so why are you so determined to punish yourself, Alfred?"

Her breath was warm on my skin, and her lips brushed against me with every word that she spoke, so, needless to say, it was a tad bit difficult for me to concentrate. I knew that I'd apologized; after all, I'd been there, hadn't I? The thing that bothered me was the knowledge that saying that you were sorry never erased what you'd said and done. I was supposed to help the boy, to keep him safe, and how in the hell was I supposed to do that if he was afraid of me….? Of course, now that I thought about it, I realized that I wasn't perfect, that I would never be able to be perfect, so why was I so damned set on punishing myself?

"Maybe I just wanted a hug," I admitted, enjoying the shiver that coursed through me from head-to-toe when she moved her mouth closer to my neck, followed by a jolt of arousal when she pursed her lips and kissed me. "And I didn't have the nerve to make the first move."

"You dear man," she murmured, tightening her arms around me and kissing me a second time, followed closely by a third. "All you had to do was ask."


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Alfred's POV

I'd seen a fair amount of cleavage in my life. There had been several hints of breasts that I'd appreciated, and a few that I'd been allowed to explore further beyond the shadowy vale, but none of those could hold a candle to what my Evie possessed. She was a classy woman, one who dressed modestly and avoided clothing which overtly showcased her curves, but there were hints to what rested beneath if you took the time to look…and God knows that I had looked. I had long been of the opinion that she could make burlap look good, which meant that what she was wearing today looked spectacular, and I found myself wishing that I was the only one there to appreciate that.

To be perfectly honest, I didn't really want to receive James Gordon as a visitor, period, in spite of the fact that I genuinely liked him, but what other choice did I have? Master Bruce was obviously angry with me, in spite of the fact that I'd apologized for my conduct, and I knew that he'd moved on to other types of self-destructive behavior. I wanted to be able to help him, I knew that I could keep my temper in check if there was any way that I could be of aid to him, but he didn't want to let me in. He was willing to let Evie in, for the most part, but not in every way, and it had dawned on me that I would have to seek help outside of the home, whether I wanted to or not.

My visit to the police station had been an eye-opening experience, one that had brought memories of my own past to mind, and reminded me of how fortunate I was to have been spared the sort of life that those who occupied the holding cells of the GCPD must endure. I'd had a front row view of the turmoil that rested below me for half an hour while I waited for James Gordon to exit his meeting with the mayor. In that time I'd seen things that made me wince, that had made me sick to my stomach, and it hadn't taken long for me to find myself needing a long, hot shower…or a long, tight hug from my Evie…perhaps a long, hot shower while I savored a long, tight hug from my Evie…..

I'd found myself blushing like a schoolboy who'd just been caught ogling the knickers in a department store. I'd been standing there, gazing down at the dregs of society, entertaining thoughts that had started innocently enough, before they took a decidedly naughty turn, and the next thing I knew, I was blushing. I'd known that it was a bad idea to show any sort of weakness in a place where deceit and pain reigned supreme. I'd known that it was especially dangerous to turn as red as a poppy, but no matter how hard I'd tried, I just couldn't stop the flush from flooding my face.

Thankfully for me, I hadn't had to endure the moment for very long, because Detective Gordon had joined me on my perch. If there was one thing that could ensure that I would lose the blush, it was definitely the prospect of facing the clean-cut, no-nonsense young man whose help I was seeking. It had galled me to have to do so, but in the end, what other choice had I been given? Master Bruce needed help, and he wouldn't allow Evie or me to give it to him, and the only other choice I had was to turn toward the man that the boy admired.

That was why James Gordon was sitting in the study this afternoon, making himself comfortable on the couch, as Evie strolled into the room with a tray loaded down with tea and a variety of goodies. That was why the detective was graced with the sight of her cleavage, the barest hint of the upper swell of her breasts, as she bent to place the salver on the coffee table. I couldn't say with any certainty whether or not he'd glanced at what was visible in that fraction of a moment, but for some reason I was obliged to believe that he had. I felt a flare of something that might have been jealousy burst to life within me in response to his wandering eyes, one that made my jaw tighten, and I wondered when I'd allowed myself to grow so possessive of her.

I'd never allowed that inclination to develop in the years that I'd known her, even though it had always lingered in the background. I'd known that it would be painful for me to think of her in that way with the knowledge that she would never be mine. Things had changed drastically lately, I knew that she wanted me in the same way that I wanted her and needless to say, that knowledge made the jealous side of my nature roar to life.

There was nothing about Evie's dress that could be called inappropriate. The hem rested below her knees, the skirt was made full by a petticoat, so there was no danger of the material accentuating her bum, and though the bodice was fitted, it was far from being indecent. Even that hint of cleavage that I was so sure Gordon was salivating over was barely visible. I suppose it could have been that I imagined the detective was staring at that hint of bosom because I was so determined to keep my own gaze from wandering there. I kept reminding myself that it was a bad idea to concentrate my attention on her breasts. I told myself that I didn't need that sort of distraction, but it would seem that my brain was in cahoots with my eyeballs, because all of my good advice went unheeded.

My Evie personified grace as she took one of the delicate Wedgwood cups off of the serving tray and filled it with tea from the matching Daisy print teapot. For one foolish moment I allowed myself to think how it would feel to be Detective Gordon. I thought of what it would be like, to have her wait upon me in that way, as if I were someone important, and then I remembered who I was, I remembered my place, and brought my mind back to where it belonged. Sure, it would be nice to watch her move through this routine and reap its benefits, but if I were him, I wouldn't have her, and what would be the use of being someone important, if that life was one that had to be spent without the woman who made me complete?

Gordon took the cup that she offered him with a murmured word of thanks and a smile. I knew that she would return his beam with one of her own, because that was the sort of thing that she did, but why in hell did it have to be one of _those_ smiles? Why had she given him an answering beam that bore so much resemblance to the ones that she gave to me? It wasn't just friendly or welcoming or polite, oh, no, it was downright _flirty_ in nature…at least, that was what I thought I saw for one moment, but then it was gone in the next, as if it had never existed at all.

Bloody hell…what was wrong with me? I hadn't actually seen Gordon sneaking a peek at any part of my Evie, and now that I thought about it, I realized that the smile that she'd given the detective had been friendly and welcoming and polite in nature, with no trace of flirtatiousness to be found. I didn't know why I was so damned determined to find something to be jealous about, after all, _I_ was the one that she made eyes at, but for some reason I was doing everything in my power to find something, _anything_, that would justify my possessiveness.

As if on cue, to remind me of how foolish I was, my Evie came to stand beside me after she'd finished serving Detective Gordon. She placed her hand on the back of my forearm and squeezed me once before she laced her fingers together at her waist, assuming the stance that was expected of her. I couldn't say for certain whether or not Gordon had seen her overt display of familiarity, and even if he had, I couldn't say whether or not it would make any sort of impression on him, but I could say that it made one on _me_. It pleased me, it thrilled me, it sent a jolt of awareness coursing through me, so much so that I wanted to turn her around and take her into my arms…but I didn't.

"Master Bruce has been engaged in activity lately that is alarming to me…that is alarming to _both_ of us," I said, sparing a glance at Evie before I moved away from her. "He's burned himself, I've found that he's cut himself as well, and though I'm not an expert in this sort of thing, it seems to me that he's taken his grieving to a state that might prove dangerous for him, if something's not done to rein him in."

Gordon met my eyes and nodded, then finished his tea in one gulp before he gently placed the empty cup on its matching saucer. "Have you thought about taking him to see a professional?" he asked, wiping his mouth with the linen napkin that Evie had given him, then folding it neatly before he placed it beside his cup. "I mean, I'm more than willing to help both of you, and I'll always be there for Bruce when he needs me, but I'm not really knowledgeable when it comes to dealing with the emotional needs of a child….."

"If you're suggesting that we should take him to a psychiatrist, I should tell you that the answer to that has always been and will always be no," I interrupted, bringing to mind the conversation that I'd had with Mr. Wayne several years before, the one that I was certain Evie had shared with Mrs. Wayne as well. "There's to be no therapy of any sort for Master Bruce. That's a rule that both Miss Ripley and I have agreed to adhere to….."

"Well, you're both his guardians now, aren't you?" Gordon asked, glancing briefly at Evie as he rose to his feet, before he turned his attention back to me. "That means that you're the ones who make the rules for him now, aren't you?"

I suppose that it would seem like an old-fashioned notion to the detective, and to most of the rest of the world, to think that Evie and I would raise Master Bruce the way that his parents wanted him to be raised, simply because we'd loved and respected them. Most people these days thought that a promise only lasted as long as you felt like doing it, or as long as it was easy, but I hadn't been raised to think that way and neither had my Evie.

"Mr. and Mrs. Wayne left us with no doubts as to how they expected their son to be raised," I replied, crossing my arms behind my back and closing the space between James Gordon and myself. "They were very clear on what they expected from us, and we both gave them our word that they could trust us to do as they'd asked."

"And what was it that they asked?"

There was no derision in his voice, only curiosity. "They said that we were to allow him to choose his own path in life. They did not want him to be molded after the idea of what a boy ought to be. They wanted Master Bruce to rely on the foundation that he'd been given upon his birth, and to decide for himself which way he ought to go, with the belief that he would choose the correct path."

The detective raised his eyebrows at me and smiled in a way that might have been offensive, given that it had a hint of the sardonic in its flavor, but it didn't, because the majority of its tone was confused, but kind, in nature.

"That's a nice theory," he replied, "but in real life I'd have to say that it has all of the makings for a disaster, wouldn't you agree?"

I never would have imagined that he could say or do anything that would make me return his smile, to be perfectly honest I hadn't wanted there to be anything about him that would make me genuinely like him, yet I couldn't deny that I did. I'd had every reason to respect him, to seek his advice and his help, but there'd been no reason for me to like him as a person, so why in hell was I starting to warm to him?

"Of course, it's none of my business how you handle things," he continued, "I just need to know what you want me to do. Why have you sought my help?"

"He wants you to help him 'straighten me out'," Master Bruce said suddenly, having crept soundlessly into the room, even though I'd told him, time and time again, not to do so.

"Oi, what have I told you about creeping up on people and listening to their conversations?" I asked, immediately flying off of the handle, even though I knew I had no business doing so. "I told you not to do it, didn't I, because it's bloody rude and you bloody well know better, don't you?"

I heard a noise behind me, the sound of Evie clearing her throat very softly, and that was all that it took for me to rein my temper in. She stayed behind me until I stopped ranting and slowly straightened my shoulders, and then she moved to stand on the opposite side of the room. I was fairly certain that everyone had observed how easy it was for her to keep me in line, but thankfully no one mentioned it to me, because my damnable masculine pride would have undoubtedly inspired me to resume behaving like an ass, and that was the last thing that I needed.

"I appreciate your concern, Detective Gordon, but I don't need your help," Master Bruce said, in a tone that was both sullen and exasperated, one that suggested that he'd been forced, of late, to deal with my supposed histrionics. "Alfred's become such a worrywart lately….."

I knew that the boy was still talking; he only stopped when Evie let him know, with one look, that she wasn't pleased with his behavior. I suppose that I ought to have thanked her in some way, because she'd taken up the fight on my behalf, but I was still struggling with the notion that someone like me had been termed a "worrywart".

I'd been called many things in my life, several of which were very uncomplimentary in nature, but I couldn't recall a single instance where someone had called me a "worrywart". That was a term that applied to nervous old women, or panicky old men who acted like nervous old women, and I didn't appreciate it in the least. I had a good mind to let the boy know that I wasn't nervous or panicky, and I sure as hell wasn't old, but I knew better than to give in to the urge to do so.

The thing that bothered me most was the fact that it looked like Evie was struggling to keep from laughing, and I had to wonder if she shared the young master's opinion. Did she think that I was overreacting? Did she believe that I was giving in to my crumbling nerves? Did she think that I'd sought out Gordon because I was panicky and hysterical…dear God…did she think that I was old?

Evangeline's POV

I ought to go to bed. It was getting late and I knew that I had an early morning waiting for me tomorrow, but I couldn't make myself leave the terrace. There was a big moon out tonight, and a sprinkling of stars that dazzled all around me, and who wanted to go to sleep, when there was so much beauty to behold? I knew that Master Bruce was ensconced in his room for the night and Alfred had disappeared shortly after dinner. There was no one for me to take care of, except for myself, and I couldn't think of anything that would make me feel better than what I was experiencing at that moment.

But then I smelled _his_ cologne, that thoroughly masculine scent that always lingered pleasantly in the air whenever he was around. I hadn't heard the door open when he walked out onto the terrace, but I could smell him, I could hear his footsteps as they moved across the flagstones, and I felt him coming up behind me. A shiver of awareness went through me as he grew closer to me, one that started between my thighs and coursed outward, to the top of my head and the tips of my toes. I shimmied about before I could stop myself and started to blush, but then he placed his coat around my shoulders and rubbed his hands up and down my arms and I knew that I had no reason to be embarrassed, because he'd obviously come to the conclusion that I'd shivered because I was cold.

"You told me that all I had to do was ask when I wanted a hug," he murmured, moving forward, to close the space between us, until he was pressed tightly against me, warming my back…and making me thrillingly aware of his masculinity. "I tried to go to bed without a hug, I was afraid that I might not be able to restrict myself to one, if I were to get started, but my self-control lasted all of five minutes…so, if you don't mind, I'd like a hug before I go bed, Evie."

His mouth was resting beside my ear, his breath was warm and his lips brushed against me with every word that he spoke, so, needless to say, I had no choice but to shimmy from head-to-toe all over again. It was a different sort of sensation, to move about when he was holding me from behind, it felt nice, exciting really, but it didn't occur to me until after I'd shimmied that my doing so might be construed as teasing by the man standing behind me, given that my I'd rubbed myself against his…..

Oh, God…there was no stopping the blush from spreading across my cheeks this time. I could feel the warmth blossom to life, and I knew that my entire face was red, a condition that was made worse when I heard, and felt, him groan my name. How was it possible to be aroused when I was mortified? How could I feel his moan like a caress, moving up my thigh, to slip between my….?

"I know what I said," I whispered, surprised that I could manage intelligible speech at that moment. My voice didn't sound like the one that belonged to me. It was lower in tone, husky and sexy and beguiling in nature, one that sounded remarkably like the one that Alfred possessed, and he seemed to enjoy it, if the way that he subtly rolled his hips was any indication. "And I meant what I said, but I gave you a hug last time, and it seems to me that it's only fair that _you_ hug _me_ this time….."

Damn. I'd started my little speech so bravely, in the manner of a self-assured woman, but my nerves had failed me in the end. Did it really matter who initiated the embrace? Wasn't it more important that we were sharing a hug with one another? What I ought to have been thinking of was the nature of that embrace. I ought to have been celebrating and reveling in the fact that it would be a romantic hug, rather than the sort that friends would share. Those were the thoughts that filled my head as I started to turn toward him, but he reached down and took hold of my hand before I could move, and turned me around, into his waiting arms.

He didn't pull me roughly into an embrace, but there was nothing particularly gentle about his touch either. There was too much passion, he was warm and strong, and his arms held me in a manner that said that it made him complete to hold me close. I could feel him against me and all around me. I felt safe and secure, I felt tiny and delicate…and then I felt a surge of lust course through my body when his hands slid down my back and stopped just a whisper short of my bottom before he moved them back up to rest around my waist.

"Is that all that you want me to do, Evie?" he asked softly, tracing the tip of his nose over my neck, right beneath my ear. "Because that's not all that I want to do…but I won't do any more than that, not unless you want me to."

My heart was pounding in my chest, my pulse was racing and I would have sworn that I was panting…which was a little embarrassing, but not enough to make me self-conscious.

"What do you want to do?" I asked, deliberately avoiding the question that concerned my own desires, because I was afraid that I'd make a complete spectacle of myself if I gave a voice to what I wanted.

"Oh, I was thinking that I might kiss you here," he murmured, moving his mouth to my forehead. "But only if that would be alright with you."

"Mmm-hmm," I answered, sliding my fingers along his nape, and slipping them into his hair. "And then what would you do?"

I heard him chuckle softly, and felt his breath, warm on my face, as he touched his lips to each brow, followed by each of my eyes. "A little kiss there and there and there and there," he whispered, "If that was what you wanted me to do."

"Yes, please," I said softly, in a tone that was almost a whimper. "But please don't stop there."

He made a noise, one that might have been a groan, then whispered, "I won't," followed by, "I can't". His hands slid up my back, then down once more to my waist. He did that three times, and held me as close as he could after each up and down caress, and then he moved his hands to my face and held my cheeks between his palms.

"And then I would hold your face like this, so I could look into your eyes before I kissed you on your beautiful lips," he murmured, sliding his thumbs over my cheekbones and watching me closely, to see if I would run, and then, when he was certain that I had no intention of doing so, he bent his head, oh, so slowly, and gently touched his lips to mine.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Evangeline's POV

_His lips were so soft. Who would have thought that a man who exuded so much strength and masculinity would possess such soft lips? I certainly wouldn't have thought so, but then, I never would have imagined that he would be kissing me either, yet here we were, and it was absolutely, positively divine. I had been so sure, right up until the moment that he'd placed his lips on mine, that I'd been kissed at least once before. I had been positive that I had, because surely that sort of thing happened when one lost their virginity, even if they had lost it eighteen years before, to a thoroughly worthless boy. That being said, I wasn't certain that I'd truly been kissed before, not after Alfred pressed his lips against mine, but I did know that I'd never been kissed like __**that**__ before._

_I learned very quickly that Alfred didn't simply kiss a woman, he tasted her, he breathed her in, and he learned how to touch her, all in one embrace. When I say that he tasted the woman he was kissing, I didn't mean that he slipped his tongue into my mouth a split-second after his lips touched mine. I meant that his mouth molded to mine, that it took tiny nibbles from my lips, when it wasn't drawing out the soft, sensual caress that he'd introduced me to with that first embrace. _

_He moved his hands up from my cheeks and plunged his fingers into my hair, holding one hand firmly against the back of my head while his other hand stole its way down my back, to my waist, so he could pull me close against his body. I could feel the callouses on his palm catching on the smooth fabric of my dress, I could feel the warmth of his hand, the strength, the ability to do so much harm, if he wanted to, yet he touched me in a way that suggested that I was delicate, fragile, someone that he would never hurt and would always protect…my God…he touched me like he loved me._

_That was a thought that made me arch against him, and whimper against his mouth in a way that sounded needy, that sounded hungry, and he responded in a way that made my heart jump. He answered my surging hips by rocking against me, by showing me how much I affected him, in a way that left me with no doubts when it came to the force of his arousal. He groaned deep in his throat and untangled his hand from my hair, tracing it along my back, to join its twin at my waist for just a moment, before they both slid down to cup my bottom._

_To say that he caught me off-guard was an understatement, at the very least, but I wasn't offended that he'd taken me in hand, so to speak. To be perfectly honest, I loved the feel of his palms as they grasped my backside, and I especially enjoyed the way that he used his hold on me to pull me against that part of him that pressed against me insistently. _

_I'd seen the sort of passion that I was experiencing at that moment in movies, I'd read about it in books, but I'd never __**felt**__ it before, and it didn't take me long, half a second, maybe, to realize that watching and reading had nothing whatsoever on feeling. The intense way that he was kissing me was almost too much to bear, as was the way that he parted my lips with his tongue and swept inside my mouth, thoroughly and stirringly tasting me as he tightened his hold on my bottom. He used his grasp on my backside to pull me against the proof of his arousal, rocking me in time with the ebb and tide of his tongue, until I was gasping into his mouth._

_Suddenly he groaned, a tortured, but thoroughly rousing sound, and moved his hands back up to my waist. He slowly moved his lips away from mine, pressing two soft kisses to my mouth, then one to the tip of my nose as he laid his forehead against mine and took several deep, shuddering breaths._

"_My sweet girl," he whispered, in a voice that was soft and even rougher than usual. "I've been looking at those lips of yours for fifteen years, and thinking to myself that they were made for kissing a man….."_

"_Then why did you stop?" I asked, stretching up, on tiptoe, to touch my lips against his._

"_It might come naturally to some men, to be a gentleman, but I'm not one of them Evie," he murmured. "And I find it especially difficult to conduct myself in that way when you've got those pretty lips of yours on mine…and the fact that my hands were filled perfectly with that bum that I've been eyeing for the past fifteen years made it damned near impossible."_

_My eyes flew to his as my cheeks turned red, a blush that deepened and was paired with a surge of that throbbing between my thighs when I saw the way that he was smiling. He was a handsome man at all times, but when he smiled he was downright gorgeous, especially when he smiled the way that he was at that moment. His seventy-seventh beam was unlike any of the others that had come before it. It was beguiling and sensual, it hinted at thoughts and feelings that were wickedly delicious in nature. It made my heart race, it made my mouth water, it made me feel tingly from head-to-toe…and it made me want to throw myself into his arms and climb him like a tree._

"_How is it that I never caught you looking at my lips or my…bum?" I asked, shivering down low, deep inside, when I heard, and felt, him chuckle. "Are you really that stealthy, or am I just completely oblivious….?"_

"_Maybe I'm just good, darling," he replied, ducking his head, to nip at my earlobe. "Or it could be that I was always careful to wait until I knew you wouldn't see me…or maybe you were too busy sneaking a peek at me to notice that I was doing the same thing to you….."_

Dear God. It was a shameful thing to be fantasizing while you were supposed to be working, wasn't it? I wondered if such a thing would be considered a form of procrastination, a very wonderful and deliciously naughty way to avoid accomplishing anything outside of dampening one's knickers. That was basically all that I'd managed to get done today, given that I was exhausted after tossing and turning all night while I wrestled with my pent-up sexual frustration.

I suppose that it would have been easy to relieve some of that tension myself. All that it would have taken was a couple of self-serving strokes to send me over the edge, but that wasn't what I'd wanted. I'd wanted to look at him when my moment arrived, to be perfectly honest I'd wanted him to be the one who laid his hands on me _there_ to make me come, but I hadn't had the nerve to tempt him away from his vow to behave like a gentleman.

Those were the thoughts that filled my head as I made my way toward the study. I thought about that kiss that we'd shared…I thought about that a lot…and about my subsequent state of being all hot and bothered, so much so that I couldn't sleep. I had to admit that I found his determination to conduct himself in a gentlemanly fashion, to take the time to woo me, endearing, but that didn't help my sexual frustration…and neither did the sight that greeted me when I reached the open doorway that led into the study.

In the back of my mind, behind all of the thoughts of kissing and being hot and bothered, I'd been dimly aware of the sounds that were coming from the study. I'd been vaguely conscious of the fact that I could hear Alfred speaking, and Master Bruce as well, and it had registered in the depths of my mind that it sounded almost as if Alfred was taunting the boy, but that couldn't be, could it? I suppose that it wouldn't matter if it had been a reality, that and the fact that Master Bruce sounded as if he was being pressured into doing something that he didn't really want to do, given my current head-in-the-clouds status, would it? It certainly didn't say much for my abilities as a guardian, once I had a moment to consider what my distraction could have enabled, but right then it didn't really register.

The first part of the exchange between Alfred and Master Bruce went unheeded by me, as I previously mentioned, but apparently Alfred had been doing his best to convince the boy to fence with him. I was willing to wager that he'd asked nicely enough to begin with, and when that didn't work he moved onto tactics designed to incite Master Bruce's masculine pride, along with just a hint of his temper.

"Ah, there she blows, the eye of the tiger, through the wind in your nostrils, Sir Bruce, the blood in his veins."

Okay. I recognized a few of those terms, but when they were combined like that, all jumbled together, they really didn't make very much sense to me. It must have been some sort of secret male code, like punching things when you were mad or slapping the backside of your fellow male without the worry that said gesture might be misconstrued as flirtatious in nature, just so long as you were playing a sport when you did so. That being said, it wouldn't have mattered if Alfred had said something that would have made perfect sense to me in normal circumstances, given that I was completely enthralled, no, make that _mesmerized_, by the sight of him fencing with Master Bruce.

My God…who would have ever thought that something like fencing could be so sexy? I'd watched my fair share of swashbuckler movies in my time, and I'd enjoyed some of them immensely, but there had never been a single one where I'd ever been transfixed, not to mention aroused, by the rhythmic movements of the men who'd been dueling one another. I'd never realized that there could be so much innuendo to be found in those movements that I'd watched a hundred times before. I never knew that a fencer could move so fluidly, so gracefully, so sensually, but I knew better now, because I was witnessing Alfred demonstrate the moves firsthand and _dear God_ it made me weak in the knees and trembly all over.

"That's it," Alfred said encouragingly…right before he lunged with a strike that would have felled the boy, paired with a cry for the young master to mind his head. I felt a surge of pride when Bruce ducked to avoid the blow, causing Alfred to land instead on the suit of armor that rested in the corner of the room.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon, sir," Alfred said, in a tone that was unlike any I'd heard him use before, one that was meek and apologetic, one that made me rush to bite back a giggle. "I'm most…oi, must be the bat!"

The submissive persona, a ploy, of course, disappeared in a heartbeat and Alfred surged into attack mode once more. The young master appeared to be confused by the initial switch in Alfred's demeanor, which meant that his blocking skills had been compromised somewhat, but once more I was given the opportunity to be proud of him as he managed to duck another attack…though it was clear that his bewilderment had made him a little clumsy.

"Your blood's up now, innit?" Alfred asked, allowing the cultured manner of speaking that he usually employed to slip somewhat as it became clear to him that his victory was imminent. He gained said triumph by giving the impression that they were going to pause and begin the lesson anew, a tactic which Master Bruce, bless his heart, foolishly fell for, which allowed Alfred to land the winning blow…on the young master's backside…with a wooden cane.

"That's got to hurt, hmm?" Alfred asked softly, leaning against the desk that rested at the back of the room, words that mirrored my sentiments exactly…only his were accompanied by a liberal dose of sarcasm. "Or maybe not too much, eh, Master Bruce?"

The words alone would have undoubtedly been enough to irritate the boy, but given that they were said in a tone that hinted at mockery, and paired with the trace of what might have been a smirk on Alfred's face, as well as a glancing blow to the arm…well, needless to say, Master Bruce completely exploded. It was exactly the sort of reaction that I would have had, had I been in the boy's place, given that I had a touch of the berserker in me, but thankfully for Alfred, he had anticipated Bruce's response and was able to dodge the attack that the young master launched, proving, once more, that he was still lithe and spry, in spite of his age.

"I said stop!" the young master shouted, leading with a blow that would have left a sizeable bruise on Alfred's arm, had it landed on him. Fortunately for him it leveled a pile of files instead, which flew to the floor as he executed a very impressive dodge, then whipped back around to confront the enraged boy as best as he could.

It was quite humorous really, in spite of the underlying danger, to see the man who'd been so impressive just moments before struggling to hold off the attack of the boy who'd been driven past the limit. Granted, the anger that Alfred had managed to bring to the surface was not amusing, not at all, but it had needed to come out, to be purged, so that it wouldn't harm the boy any longer…though it might prove quite harmful to the man I loved.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa….!"

That one word became a mantra, a plea really, for Alfred as he clumsily blocked Bruce's punishing blows. He was finally forced to retreat behind the curtains to protect his body as best as he could, and I bit back a gasp as one blow landed on the drapes, sending a muffled _whomping_ sound through the room. It relieved me to see the curtain open to show Alfred, completely unharmed, though for one moment I worried that Master Bruce might continue his assault, now that he had glimpsed his tormentor's face once more.

"Stop…down swords," Alfred said, before the boy could resume his bid to obliterate his enemy. He tossed his own cane to the floor and held up his hands. "There's no need to finish me, Sir Bruce," he said earnestly, "for I willingly surrender to the fury of your superior might."

For a moment all was silent, save for the sound of Alfred gasping for breath, and then, wonder of wonders, Master Bruce laughed, the first that I'd heard since that awful night. He looked genuinely happily for just a moment, and I saw the boy that I knew, the boy that I'd loved like he was my own, ever since the day that he'd been born.

"I was right, wasn't I, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, straightening his vest, and then bending to collect the scattered files off of the floor. "There's nothing better than a nice swordfight to get your heart pumping and your blood racing. It's certainly a step-up from these files that you insist on poring over both day and night, isn't it?"

He placed most of the mess on the desk, all but the one that he'd cracked open, and I winced when I saw the look that had come over Bruce's face. All traces of his former happiness were gone in an instant, replaced by worry and a hint of something that might have been resentment, along with just the merest trace of fear.

"What is this you've been reading?" Alfred asked, thumbing through what appeared to be photographs. "Oh, it's a file from the police…with pictures of your mum and dad...how did you manage to get your hands on these, Master Bruce?"

There wasn't any anger in his voice, but I could hear the tone that said that he was getting close to the edge of his temper, and I knew that the boy could hear it as well. I saw him struggle to swallow, and his eyes immediately went to the floor before he answered Alfred's question.

"They aren't really that hard to get ahold of," Bruce replied, "not if you know where to look."

I heard Alfred take a one deep breath, and then another. "I can't understand why you'd want to see something like this, Master Bruce. There's nothing but pain and grief to be taken from these horrific photos, and you're bound to have nightmares, filling your eyes with this, instead of remembering your mum and dad the way they were before that night."

"I've had nothing but nightmares since that night," Bruce stammered, backing away instinctively, an action that hurt me and undoubtedly broke Alfred's heart in two. "And I need to read those files, I need to look at those pictures because I'm…I'm…I'm looking for clues, and how else am I supposed to find them?"

"Oh, I see," Alfred said, in that tone that never failed to set my teeth on edge. "You're a detective now, is that right?"

"I am if I can find a clue," Master Bruce retorted, making me proud by standing his ground, in spite of the fact that he was doing so in a manner that hinted at insolence.

"Too right," Alfred snapped angrily, "but have you managed to find a bloody clue?"

Bruce looked up at him fearfully, then dejectedly, and I heard him sigh before he answered. "No," he said, moving his gaze to the vicinity of Alfred's chest. "I haven't found anything yet."

"You haven't found anything yet," Alfred repeated, and that was all that it took to send the boy's eyes back down to the floor. For one awful moment I feared that he would continue to berate the young master, and I readied myself to intervene on Bruce's behalf, but when Alfred spoke again his voice was much softer, much gentler than it had been, and I knew that there was nothing to fear…though I suppose that I ought to have known that all along.

"Master Bruce, Detective Gordon has made you a promise," he said, "he has given you his vow that he would find the one who's responsible for the murder of your parents, hasn't he?"

"Yes, he promised that," Bruce replied, moving his eyes back to Alfred's face and taking a step in his direction. "But do you think that he'll keep his word?"

"I believe that he will do everything in his power to _try_," Alfred assured him. "I have no doubt about that, Master Bruce."

The boy nodded…then looked past Alfred and found me lingering in the doorway, where I'd somehow managed to remain hidden all that time. "Hey, Vangie," he said softly, almost, but not quite, smiling in greeting. "How long have you been standing there?"

I resisted the urge to look at Alfred, because I knew that I'd never be able to lie if I did so. "Oh, not too long," I said, "I just thought that I'd go over this evening's menu with you, if you don't mind giving me a moment of your time."

"I don't mind," he replied, in a voice that was filled with relief. "Uh, as long as that's okay with you, Alfred."

There was a moment of silence, which piqued my curiosity, but I was wise enough to know that it was best for me to keep my eyes where they were, trained solely on the young master.

"Yes, of course, Master Bruce," Alfred said quietly. "I've got a bit of work that needs to be done before this evening, so I'll just leave you with Miss Ripley."

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce replied, moving across the room, to take a seat on the sofa. "And thank you for the fencing lesson as well. I enjoyed it very much."

I had reason to suspect that there may have been a fair-sized dose of dishonesty in that last bit, but how on earth could I bring that to the boy's attention without betraying the fact that I'd been spying on them? That was what convinced me to keep my mouth closed, adding my own duplicity to Master Bruce's, and I stood aside as Alfred made his way to the door…a move that he countered by stealthily reaching out and taking hold of my wrist.

"I would love a taste of something sweet after dinner tonight," he murmured, dipping his head to whisper in my ear, the one that was hidden from view from Master Bruce, should he care to look. I was fairly certain that we were safe from discovery, because the boy had filched one of the files off of the desk on his way to the couch and its contents had garnered all of his attention…and that was good, because Alfred chose to follow his words with a nip to my earlobe, followed closely by a knee weakening suckle, and it was all that I could do to stay on my feet.

"One last thing, Evie darling," Alfred whispered, smiling knowingly as he moved away from me, his seventy-eighth beam, which was thoroughly wicked…not to mention irritatingly smug…in nature. "Try to keep the lying to a minimum while Master Bruce is in your company. After all, it is up to us to make sure that he's raised correctly, and how will he ever grow up to be a good man if you insist on being such a bad influence on him?"

Alfred's POV

I was in for another long, sleepless night; I knew that just as well as I knew my own name. The bad thing was that this time it was my own fault, for being such a smartass and making Evie see red…though, technically I suppose that last night had been my own fault as well, because I was so damned determined to conduct myself like a gentleman. That was why I'd tossed and turned all night. That was why I'd had a reoccurring erection that had tormented me from the time I laid down 'til the time I'd crawled back out of bed. I'd finally been forced to give in to my needs and satisfy myself in the shower, but all that had accomplished was taking the edge off of my need for my girl.

Tonight I hadn't gotten a kiss that would turn most any man inside out, hell, I hadn't even gotten my hug, and for dessert she'd served up _fruit salad_ of all things, like a bunch of fruit was going to satisfy my sweet tooth. She'd only done that because I'd put her in a snit, and when I saw that bloody diced fruit I'd entertained a snit of my own, internally of course, but I'd forced myself to eat every last bite of her offering…and then I'd retreated outside, to pace the grounds and lick my wounds before I turned in for the night.

I checked in on Master Bruce, and then paused outside of Evie's door for a full minute on my way to my own bedroom. I rested my hand on the cool, hard surface and imagined a hundred things that I would have liked to say to her, the first being that I was sorry for acting like an ass, but in the end I lost my nerve and trudged on to my own door, unbuttoning my vest and loosening my tie as I went. I didn't know why I was even bothering to make the effort to sleep, I knew that I'd be up all night tossing and turning again, but what else could I do? I sighed deeply, the sort of sound that one made when they were feeling sorry for themselves, and slowly opened the door…then stopped dead in my tracks, and stared disbelievingly at the sight that awaited me.

There was a chair sitting across the room by the window, a big leather number that had cost the world and was the most comfortable thing in existence, and in that chair was the most beautiful thing in existence…wearing nothing but an old t-shirt and a pair of knickers. Her hair was down, there was a smile on her face and in one hand she was holding a spoon and in the other there was, oh blimey, a bowl filled with what looked to be homemade chocolate cake and topped with whipped cream and a cherry.

"Master Bruce ought to be commended for his ability to keep a secret from you," she said, shifting in the chair, moving over to the side, to make room for me. "Though, now that I think about it, that's probably just another example of my 'bad influence' on him, isn't it?"

"Mmm-hmm," I murmured, amazed by the fact that I had the ability to answer her at all, given that I could see her nipples poking against the thin fabric of her t-shirt.

"Well, maybe you should come over her and teach me how to be a good girl…after you have a little taste of 'something sweet', that is."

Just So You Know: I did change some of the dialogue during Alfred and Bruce's swordfight, but a good deal of it I chose to repeat, verbatim, because I loved it so much. Also, those readers who are familiar with me as a writer know that I take great joy in being a tease. For those who aren't familiar with my tactics, there's nothing that I love more than sexual tension…which means that there will be a good deal more of it before Alfred and Evie "get off on the good foot and do the bad thing."


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Alfred's POV

I could still remember the way Evie had looked the first time I'd seen her. She'd been wearing a bright red dress that was thoroughly inappropriate for the woman in the newly hired position of lady's maid to Mrs. Wayne and I'd spent a full minute taking in the sight of her, unseen, from the shadowed corner of the corridor. I could still recall the way that my heart had leapt, throbbing and racing, within my chest. I could still remember the way my stomach had flip-flopped and the tingle that had run up and down my spine. All that it had taken was a single glance at her to tantalize me, and when her eyes had met mine I'd found myself in love.

Her eyes were locked onto mine as I replayed that memory in my mind, but they looked nothing like they'd looked on that day. Back then her eyes had been warm and friendly, but not familiar, and now they were filled with mischievousness, as well as arousal, not to mention a fair dose of seductiveness. I never would have thought that she would look at me that way. I had never allowed myself to hope, let alone believe that such a thing was possible, yet here we were, and her eyes were telling me things that made me want to have my wicked way with her, right there in that chair.

She had turned sideways just a bit, and then she'd thrown her legs across my lap. I watched her dip the bowl of the spoon through the layers of whipped cream, frosting and cake and wondered if she was aware of my erection, followed by the hope that she was, given that it was pressed against the back of her thigh. I suppose that I ought to have been embarrassed about that, after all, it was kind of awkward, but I had just enough masculine hang-ups to ensure that my attention was focused on the hope that she _would_ notice, because that meant that I had something worth noticing, didn't it?

"Did you really think that I would make you go without a taste of something sweet, Alfred?" she asked softly, in a husky tone that seemed to reach out and take hold of me down below. "Do you really think that I would be that mean to you, hmm, you dear man?"

She slid the bowl of the spoon between my lips before I could answer her and I closed my eyes, savoring the culinary delight in every way. The whipped cream was perfectly sweet, the icing was decadently delicious and the cake was perfectly moist. Blimey, she was one hell of a cook. I'd been enjoying her artfulness in the kitchen for fifteen years, and I was definitely enjoying it at that moment as well…but it wasn't all that I intended to take pleasure in on this night.

"You're not a mean woman, Evie dearest," I murmured, sticking out my tongue to capture the bit of whipped cream that was resting on the corner of my mouth. "As a matter of fact, I'd have to say that you're the kindest person that I've ever known, even when you're being a tease...and this cake is delicious, my dear, but it wasn't the taste of sweetness that I had in mind, if you know what I mean."

I had a good idea that she knew exactly what I meant, given how she blushed blood red and shifted her legs about on my lap…a movement that served to increase the flush on her face, until it spread down her neck, as my cock-stand made obvious contact with the back of her thigh. She probably wouldn't agree with my estimation that she was quite adorable in moments such as these, when she was overtaken by self-consciousness, but it was the truth. She was also breathtakingly beautiful, so much so that she stole my breath away…and made that swelling down below grow even more insistent in nature.

"I have a pretty good notion of what you had in mind," she said softly, taking one deep breath, followed closely by another, as her gaze skittered away from mine. I fully expected her to remain shy and uncertain, I had every reason to believe that she would continue to blush and nibble nervously on her bottom lip…so imagine my surprise when she stuck her spoon into the bowl that she was cradling on her lap and scooped up another mouthful of cake and cream. I was caught off-guard by her behavior, and I just took it for granted that she meant to feed me another bite of dessert, but she stuck the spoon into her own mouth instead, her eyes meeting and holding mine as she licked it clean. "But you left in a huff after dinner and didn't give me the goodnight kiss that we both wanted, so doesn't that make _you_ the tease, rather than me?"

It wasn't often that I found myself at a loss for words, but as I sat there staring at her with wide eyes, watching as if spellbound as the tip of her tongue left no trace of the cake or the whipped cream behind, I did so in stunned silence. When had my prim and proper Evie become a seductive little minx? Was it something that had always been there, hiding beneath the surface, or was this new side of her something that I had brought to life?

"I believe that I can be called many things, sweet one," I said, reaching out one hand and placing it on her knee. "Some of them good, even more that are bad, but I never have been nor will I ever be a tease…especially not with you. I've promised myself that I would be a gentleman where you are concerned, I vowed that I would take the time to woo you properly, but all that it would take was one word from you to change my mind."

She moved her eyes away from mine, to gaze at the hand that was resting on her knee, and I watched her throat work as my palm moved up, just a bit, until it was resting low on the inside of her thigh. I could practically hear her internal struggle as she argued against what she wanted, with what she thought was right, and the fight was plain on her face, in her eyes, when she moved her gaze back to mine.

"You are the dearest of men, yet you are so very wrong," she whispered, "the good has always and will always outweigh the bad where you're concerned." She reached out with shaking hands to place the bowl on top of the table that rested beside my chair…and then made my heart stop for just an instant, then begin again in a furious rhythm, as she moved her body into a position that found her straddling me. "And as much as I love the idea of having all of you for my own, I also like the notion of being wooed by you…but that doesn't mean that we can't be a _little_ naughty, does it?"

Did she have any idea what it did to me, to feel her soft and warm body pressed against me in ways that I never would have dared to imagine, as she looked at me like I was the sexiest man she'd ever known, and watch while those sweetly plump lips of hers formed the word _naughty_? This was the exact sort of scenario that I'd run through in my mind over the years, while I was lying in bed, taking myself in hand, so to speak, only now it was no longer a fantasy. She really was straddling my body. I truly could feel the warmth of her pressed against me down below. Her nipples really were standing up and poking themselves against the thin cotton of her t-shirt. I could hold her, I could kiss her, I could do things that were a little _naughty_ if I wanted to…or, that is, I could have, had Master Bruce not chosen that precise moment to wake from a nightmare, screaming and crying for his mother, the sound of which sent Evie tumbling off of my lap to land on the floor.

Evangeline's POV

I was standing in the kitchen, waiting for Alfred to return from taking Master Bruce his dinner in the study. The boy had taken to sleeping in that room, instead of in his bedchamber, and he wanted all of his meals delivered there as well…though he hadn't eaten the night before, nor this morning, and I knew that Alfred was at his wit's end worrying about the young master, because I was in that same frame of mind as well.

Bruce had taken to poring over the news of late, whether it was on the television or in a paper. It was almost as if he had become obsessed with crime in Gotham, and this spree of murders committed by the, as Alfred would say, "nutter" that the denizens of our fine city had taken to calling The Balloonman seemed to be of particular interest to him. I suppose that it was to be expected, given what he'd experienced lately, that the boy would be more interested in the criminal activities going on around him, but he wasn't just interested, he was fixated on all aspects of the wrongdoing in Gotham, and his fascination with the subject seemed to be the only thing that he thought about, both day and night.

Of course, I knew that it wasn't the only thing that he thought about. He also thought about his parents, and about their murders, but these were feelings that he tended to keep locked up inside of himself. The only time that he might allow them to be seen was when he had a bad dream, and then he would only do so if Alfred or I managed to catch him in a vulnerable moment, such as when he'd just awakened. It was the fear of those dreams that made him so tired, because he was too afraid to sleep, and I imagined that it was the memory of what he'd seen as he slept that made him lose his appetite.

Needless to say, both Alfred and I were beside ourselves with worry, but what could we do? We couldn't protect Bruce in his dreams, and our ignorance of what he'd suffered meant that we couldn't persuade him to sleep. We also couldn't force-feed him, though I suspected at times that Alfred had given the notion some serious thought. Mr. and Mrs. Wayne had made us promise them that we would trust their son to choose the path that was best for him, and we were both endeavoring to do what they'd wanted us to do…but how far could we let the child go with these behaviors that might prove dangerous before we put a stop to them?

I heard the double swinging door that led into the corridor open behind me, but I didn't turn to look as Alfred made his way into the kitchen. I was afraid that I would see a dejected look on his face, and that was something that I couldn't take at that moment, not with the way that I was feeling already. I chose instead to place two plates on the warmer in the center of the massive wooden island, and began filling them with the dinner that Alfred had prepared.

There was filet mignon, which I sliced into medallions, and wedges of potato that had been crusted with herbs, and then roasted in the oven, as well as spears of asparagus and a spiced beef and merlot reduction sauce, which made an artful decoration around the edges of the plates. All in all, I thought that I'd done a wonderful job of plating the meal, and I waited for Alfred to compliment me for my efforts, but he did not say a word, and that was when it dawned on me that he hadn't moved at all since he'd come into the room.

I slowly turned to face him, readying myself for the sight of an expression that would undoubtedly break my heart, but he crossed the floor so quickly that I missed whatever might have been there. He took me into his arms before I could say a word, and held me tightly, almost painfully so, squeezing me, then running his hands up and down my back, before he clasped me close, over and over again. I returned the embrace with everything that I had and murmured in his ear, soothing words that didn't really make much sense, but ones that I knew would comfort him, and that was all that mattered.

"Why did he trust me to do this, Evie?" he asked softly, in a hoarse tone that conveyed his distress so thoroughly that it made my heart hurt. "I don't know a damned thing about being a father. I know how to give and obey orders and I know how to intimidate someone, when necessary, to do what I've said, but I don't know how to be the parent to the boy that his father was. You'd think that I'd have some sort of clue, given that my own father was excellent at his job, but I'm completely incompetent. Why did I tell Mr. Wayne that I would be able to handle this responsibility? Why didn't I just admit that I didn't know a single, bloody thing about being a father?"

I rose onto my tiptoes, so I could hold him as closely as I wanted to, as tightly as he needed me to, and I felt him take one deep, shuddering breath as I pressed my lips to one cheek, then release it as I moved to kiss the other one. We hadn't really had a chance for any closeness like this, any intimacy, since the night that Master Bruce had interrupted us with his piercing and heartbreaking cries, and, needless to say, I'd been longing for Alfred's touch. This situation wasn't the best introduction to an affectionate moment, as a matter of fact it was one of the worst, but it was what we had and I wasn't about to let it go to waste.

"Oh, sweetheart," I murmured, touching my mouth to his jaw, then sliding it down, to kiss his throat above the starched collar of his shirt. "You are far too harsh on yourself. Mr. Wayne entrusted the care of his son to you because he knew that you were the best man for the job. He knew that you wouldn't be the sort of guardian that he was, because you are not him, but he saw in you what he wanted for Bruce. You may not be able to see yourself for the man that you are, but I can see it, and I knew that you not only _can_ handle this responsibility, you _are _handling it. And you might not have known what it meant to be a father, but you're learning more and more with each and every day that passes, just as I'm learning to be a mother. There are some instincts that we're born with when it comes to our children, but mostly we have to learn through experience, and I, for one, think that you're doing a very good job….."

He lowered his head and took hold of my mouth, cutting off my words in the most effective, not to mention enjoyable, way that he could. He kissed me in a way that made me think that the act itself was healing to him, as if each caress of lips against lips, and, eventually, of tongue against tongue, acted as a balm to him. He held me tightly to begin with, so much so that his heart seemed to beat in time with my own, and then his hands moved down my back, to take hold of my bottom, and my heart jumped, then raced, as he used the hold to move me against the bulge in his trousers.

I couldn't say how long we kissed, it may have been a few seconds, or it could have been minutes. All that I could say for certain was that I was breathless when he moved his mouth away from mine, and it was embarrassing to admit it, but I'd whimpered a little when he released me, because I didn't want him to go. I'd waited for so long to be able to hold him the way that I'd always wanted to, ever since I'd met him, to kiss him and love him…though, now that I thought about it, I'd always done that, hadn't I?

"You have always been so quick to extol my strengths, to assure me that I'm a good man when I doubt myself, and I've always appreciated your support, Evie darling, even when it was done without hugs and kisses and while you called me Mr. Pennyworth. I don't know what I've ever done to deserve a woman like you to call my own, it must have been some selfless act that I've managed to forget, but I'm so glad that I did whatever it is that I did, because I don't think that I could make it without you, my sweet girl."

I would have liked to have possessed the ability to tell him how much he'd meant to me through the years, right after I reminded him that I could hardly be called a girl, sweet or not, any longer, but the fact that he was kissing his way down my neck made me forget how to speak…not to mention think. His lips were wonderfully warm and soft on my flesh. The tip of his tongue and, _oh, God_, his teeth were driving me to distraction as they traced over my throat, tasting me and marking me, until I was surging against him as the gasps born of my arousal filled the room.

"Stay the night with me tonight," he whispered, nipping at the supersensitive spot where my neck and shoulder met one another. "I give you my word that I won't try anything too terribly naughty, I am still bound by my vow to conduct myself as a gentleman, but I want to hold you in my arms while I sleep…if you'll allow me to do so."

My mind was racing as I tried to imagine what would qualify as something that was "too terribly naughty". I told myself that it wouldn't be right for me to sleep in his room. I reminded myself that Master Bruce might awaken in the middle of the night and seek either me or Alfred, and how would that look if he were to find us together in bed? It would be embarrassing and awkward for him, so therefore it was completely improper for me to even consider taking Alfred up on his invitation…but, now that I thought about it, Alfred was the most proper person I knew, and if he thought it would be okay, how could it possibly be wrong?

Besides which, I really, _really_ wanted to know what it was like to spend the entire night in his arms, so when it came down to it, there was really nothing to consider, was there? This was one of those rare circumstances where there were no cons, there were only pros, and God knows that there were a whole bunch of them and a fair amount of them made me blush and feel all tingly inside.

"Have I been too bold, darling?" he asked softly, placing his palm against my cheek and staring down into my eyes. "Or are you simply waiting for more persuasion, say a massage and dinner served in bed? You don't have to hide from me, Evie, I will accept either answer that you give, but I need to know what it is right now, before I allow myself to hope too much….."

"I was going to say yes all along," I told him, after I'd hushed him with a kiss. "I meant to say it right away, but you caught me a little off-guard and it took a moment for me to get all of my thoughts together."

He smiled at me, his eighty-third beam, which was a thoroughly boyish grin that made my heart flip-flop around in my chest. "But you've got them all together now, don't you, sweetheart?" he asked, reading me as easily as he might if I were a picture book. "And you'll let me hold you through the night, after we've had dinner, and you've had a long, thorough rubdown, and we've indulged in a little bit of naughtiness….?"

I placed my fingertip on his lips to shush him that time and was forced to swallow a gasp when he opened his mouth and bit it. I might have known that he would pull out his arsenal of erotic gifts to make certain that I was utterly weak in the knees for him, but two could play at that game, couldn't they? I'd never had many, if any, opportunities to play the role of the seductress in the past, but all of that was about to change, and I could hardly wait to see the look on his face when I unveiled my own means to bring about knees that were weak.

"I was thinking that I would serve dinner, if that would be okay with you," I told him. "You check to see that Master Bruce is settled for the night and I'll make a quick trip to my room to get ready before I bring dinner around….."

"What do you mean, 'get ready'?" he asked, with a spark of curiosity in his eyes. "What have you got in mind for me, Evie darling?"

"No spoilers," I whispered, placing my hand on his chest and pushing him back toward the swinging doors. "Now, you do what I've told you to and then go to your room to wait for me. I promise that you won't be disappointed with your surprise, but you have to be patient while I get it ready, okay?"

He smiled again, a thoroughly lascivious grin that made the tingling between my thighs throb, then quicken into a steady rhythm of desire. "Yes, ma'am," he murmured, winking at me as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth. "I'll give you twenty minutes, my dear girl, no more, no less. It's not much, I suppose, but it's as much patience as I can muster at this point, and then I'll have to come and fetch you whether you're ready or not…so I'd get a move on, if I were you, Evie."


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Evangeline's POV

Alfred had given me twenty minutes, which meant that I had three minutes left to gather my courage and make my entrance, but I didn't know if that was going to be enough time. I was standing outside his bedroom door, with the handles of the tray holding our dinner gripped tightly in my hands, as I weighed the risks of making a run for it while I still could. Who on earth did I think I was? I knew that I wasn't a seductress, I wasn't the sort of woman who knew what sort of glance or gesture to use to turn a man on. Technically speaking, I wasn't a virgin any longer, but I may as well have been as pure as driven snow, given that my knowledge of how to bring a man to his knees with my sensual charms was virtually nonexistent.

"Stop being such a wimp," I whispered, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "You're a smart woman, Evangeline Ripley, and you have it in you to be as sexy as you want to be. Remember what you felt against the back of your thigh the other night? That was his reaction to _you_, honey love…though; I suppose he would have reacted that way to any woman who was acting like a shameless hussy, wouldn't he?"

I suppose that I might have felt a bit more confident if I was wearing clothing that was suitably enticing, but I wasn't a negligee and teddy kind of girl, so needless to say, my choices had been a little limited. That was why I'd gone with what I knew, and while my black lace cami and matching hipster panties were a tad bit more risqué than what he'd seen me in last time, they were hardly the stuff of mature masculine fantasies...

It didn't dawn on me that my three minutes had run out until the door that led into Alfred's bedroom opened suddenly, causing me to let loose with a thoroughly humiliating squeak of surprise. I experienced a sense of relief that lasted all of half a second, because I'd managed to keep myself from dropping the tray of food onto the floor, but then it was gone, leaving me red cheeked and stumbling over my words as, once more, I entertained the notion of making a run for it while I still had the ability to do so.

"Let me look at you," Alfred said quietly, following his words with a wolf whistle that was totally unexpected, but very much appreciated. I could feel my blush deepening as his eyes ran the length of my body, very slowly, from head-to-toe. I watched as his eyes lingered on my breasts, before they moved down, to stare at me _there_, and I struggled to swallow as his pupils widened, to encompass the startlingly blue irises, as his gaze grew hotter and more intense with every moment that passed. "Let me look at every last sweet inch of you, Evie darling."

I wasn't certain if I was ready for him to look at every last inch of my body, because there were a few of those inches which weren't quite as "sweet" as he'd said they were. My body was no longer that of a young woman. I had an older woman's body, not quite mature, but no longer as slim and trim as I would have liked for it to be. I'd never been completely toned and taut, not even when I was a teenager, but now the roundness of my tummy was a little more pronounced and my backside, which had always been fuller than I would have liked it to be, had developed the sort of dimples that wouldn't be called pretty or beguiling…..

So why in the hell had I worn a cropped cami and panties that revealed a fair amount of my bottom?

"C'mon, love," he said softly, in a cajoling tone that sent a tingle up and down my spine. "I can't see you properly while you're holding that tray. Now, step inside for me and place it on that table by the bed like a good girl, alright?"

Oh, no. I wanted to do what he'd asked me to; because the voice that he'd used made me feel warm and quivery all over, but in order to do that I would have to walk past him. If I walked past him, he was bound to get a good look at my stomach, not to mention my tush and…oh, God…my jiggling breasts as well…..

_Well, what in hell did you think would happen, you nitwit_? I asked myself, inside my head, to ensure that I wouldn't let him onto the fact that I was a half a second away from giving myself over to my nerves. _You're the one who decided to pretend to be a practiced seductress; you're the one who promised him a wonderful surprise, aren't you? And what is that surprise, hmm? It's a big disappointment, isn't it, because you don't know the first thing about seducing a man, do you? And you're so out of touch where sex is concerned that your notion of erotic attire is the sort of thing that would look downright tame compared to the average bikini, isn't it_?

"Blimey, woman, don't scare me like that," Alfred said worriedly, reaching to take hold of my arm and pull me into the room, closing the door behind me. "You don't look right when you go all pale as milk like that, sweetheart. Now what on earth could I have possibly said that would frighten you so badly, hmm?"

He took the tray out of my hands and carried it across the room to set it on the table by the bed. I was supposed to have done that, and I would have done it if I'd had the nerve, but in the end I'd chickened out. He'd said that he wanted to look at every last inch of me, but I hadn't had the bravado to sashay my way across the room, seductively swaying my hips to-and-fro, while my breasts bobbed up-and-down. Instead I chose to wrap my arms around my body and stare at the floor, while I did my best to keep from crying, which wasn't easy, given how mortified I was at that moment.

"Is it me, Evie?" he asked softly, slowly crossing the room to stand beside me and, after a moment of hesitation, to gently place one hand on top of mine. "Have I upset you in some way? I know that men feign ignorance all of the time to get themselves out of trouble, but honestly darling, I have no idea what I might have done or said that would have put you in this state."

I took one tiny step toward him, and then another one, until my body was nearly touching his, taking solace in his warmth and his strength. I was torn, for just an instant, between hiding myself and putting my arms around him, but in the end my need to be held won out and I nearly cried, this time with relief, when I felt his arms encircle me and pull me up tight against his chest.

"You dear man," I whispered, rising onto my tiptoes, to wind my arms around his neck. "You haven't said or done anything wrong. I am the one who's to blame; I'm the one who's made a fool of myself, not you. I thought that I could slip into something sexy and bring you to your knees with my sensual charms, but I've made a spectacle of myself instead. I don't know what I was thinking, getting you all worked up with the prospect of a surprise, something that was going to knock your socks off, and in the end, all that I've given you is a glimpse of my less than stellar figure….."

I felt his muscles tighten beneath my hands, until they felt positively rigid. I heard him take one deep breath, followed closely by another, and then he moved away from me. His eyes were a shade of blue that was unlike any I'd seen before as he gazed…no, make that _glared_ down at me, and I watched, with anxious fascination, as the muscle in his jaw moved in and out in a furious rhythmic tic that said that I'd managed to provoke his temper.

"I know that this is rather bold, my dear, but you've left me with little choice," he said softly, dangerously, as he took hold of my hand and drew it down, to place it against the fly of his trousers, or, rather, on what rested beneath the fly of his trousers…what was surging and straining against the fly of his trousers. "Do you honestly think that I would react this way to the sight of you in your knickers if I wasn't in immediate danger of being brought to my knees and having my socks knocked off, eh, love?"

The feel of him pressed so intimately against my palm brought to mind the moments that we'd shared in that big leather chair of his. I could remember the way that he'd felt against the back of my thigh, and how excited I'd been, to know that I affected him in that way. I recalled how that exhilaration had emboldened me, so much so that I'd straddled his lap, so I could feel his growing arousal stroking me _down there_. There had been no doubt in my mind that he would have been happy to bring me to orgasm that way, one stroke after another, until I'd went to pieces in his arms, but I'd lost my nerve. I'd been too afraid that I would lose control altogether, that I would move from that moment into what would naturally happen next, and rush us into something that we weren't ready for without savoring all that we could have before we had it all.

That was the first time that I'd felt the thrill of knowing that my touch was one that drove a man crazy, and it had been a heady feeling indeed, but it was nothing at all when compared with the knowledge that I'd managed to arouse the man I loved with nothing more than the sight of me. He'd been turned-on _before_ he'd touched me. He was in that condition because all that it had taken was one look to make him want me, and now I truly understood what it felt like to be the object of a man's desire…I truly knew what it meant to be his all and everything, and that was enough to send _me_ to my knees.

"If memory serves, when I was an adolescent boy, all that it would have taken was a pleasantly warm breeze to give me an erection, but many years have passed since then, Evie darling, and at my age it takes true stimulation to inspire this sort of response from me. It should be noted, however, that I've found myself in this situation numerous times since I made your acquaintance…and always because of you, my sweet, you and you alone."

I curled my fingers, just a tiny bit, to stroke the length and girth of him, and watched with wide eyes as his throat worked convulsively and loosed a sound that was a cross between a groan and a growl. It was plain as day that he loved the way that I was touching him, and I would have been willing to wager that he would have liked to have allowed me to bring him to orgasm that way, but in the end he moved away from me, before I could, once more, be in danger of taking things too far, too fast.

"Do you remember me as I was when we first met?" he murmured, in a tone that was even raspier than usual.

"Of course I do," I replied, thinking back to that day, and all of the conflicting emotions that had rocketed their way through me when I'd first laid eyes on the man who'd turn my world upside-down in the best possible way.

"Well, then, you'll recall that I looked considerably different than I do now," he continued, running his hands down my bare arms, his big palms, which were rougher than they ought to be, curling to encompass my flesh. "I was the age that you are now. There was not a single silver hair to be found on my head, and my skin was much smoother and tauter than it is now. I was a man in the prime of his life, not a middle-aged fellow who's headed toward the status of senior citizen, so why on earth should you be interested in me now?"

I slid my hand up to his waist, and moved it to rest on the small of his back. "You can't be serious, Alfred," I said, moving my hand down, placing it on his belt, then down even further, until it was almost, but not quite, laying on the upper swell of his backside. "You're the most wonderful man that I know. You're sexy and strong, you're honorable and compassionate and trustworthy. You personify tall, dark and handsome. You have the sort of voice that could make reading the phonebook aloud an erotic experience. You're honest and loyal and kind. You're….."

"No more, Evie, I beg of you," he said, cutting me off with his words, while his hands did their fair share of making me speechless as they moved around behind my back and mimicked the way that I was touching him. "I've never been one for walking around with a swelled head, but I might reconsider that stance if you keep on in the way that you are right now."

"Well, then, let me just say this…I have been 'interested' in you ever since that first meeting fifteen years ago," I told him, boldly sliding my hands down even further, until I had them cradling his backside. "I have never known another man like you, Alfred Pennyworth, and I don't think that I ever will either…you're a one-of-a-kind original, and better than that, you're all mine…at least, I hope you are."

He'd made a sound that might have been a gasp when I "took him in hand", but then, the look that said that he was pleasantly surprised gave way to a smile, his eighty-fifth, which was one of those boyish sorts that made me feel like my heart was glowing. He gazed down at me for several moments, and then he bent his head to kiss me, a soft, searching sort of embrace, like those that you ought to give when you're taking the first steps into intimacy.

"And you, Evie darling, are a rarity, a treasure, and I'm blessed to have you for my own," he whispered, kissing his way across my jaw, over to my earlobe, to take the sensitive flesh between his teeth. "Your face is beautiful, with those big brown eyes and those full, pouty lips. Your figure is the sort that makes a man's hands itch to touch it, to learn every curve and feel that warm softness filling his palms. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes, you're a work of art, love, but that's not what makes you exquisite."

"It's not?" I asked softly, as I reveled in the knowledge that I was not only beautiful, but exquisite…at least I was in his eyes.

"No, Evie, that's just what's on the outside, and as lovely as it is, it can't even come close to what's in here," he replied, moving one hand up, and around, placing it on my chest. "This is where _you_ are, sweetheart. This is where all of what makes you such a treasure resides, and that is why it is the most beautiful thing about you. Granted, it isn't what I noticed first about you, and it's generally not what gets me in the mood whenever you're nearby, but it _is_ the thing that makes me happy, and it gives me hope, and there's not nearly enough of that about, is there?"

I wanted to answer him, I truly did, and even more than that, I wanted to tell him that his heart was just as beautiful as mine was, but there was no way that I could speak at that moment. Words never moved very well when there was a lump in their way, and when they did manage to escape, they always sounded wobbly and squeaky. Thankfully, he didn't seem to expect a verbal response. It would seem that all that I couldn't say was just as plain as day in my eyes, and he smiled at me again, that same sweet, boyish grin…one that took on a decidedly lascivious air as his eyes moved down the length of my body.

"I think that it's high time that we have our dinner, love," he said, stepping back, once, then twice, moving his eyes up and down, then down and up, the whole while. "And then I thought that we might try a bit of snogging, with a little touchy-feely, if that would be alright with you. It's been a long time since I've done that sort of thing, and I'd kind of like to give it a whirl, if you'd be up for it as well."

I was still at a loss for words, but I managed to nod, and waited for him to move toward his bed, but he didn't. He continued to watch me with a glint in his eyes and a naughty grin curving his lips, one that spread even wider when he saw that I was blushing.

"Ladies first," he murmured, moving aside, to give me plenty of room to pass. "Oh, come on now, love. After all, it's just good manners, isn't it, to allow a lady to go first…though, perhaps not so courteous after all, given that I'll be watching your bum the whole while."

Alfred's POV

Her lips were soft and warm against mine and they kissed me in a way that was unlike any I'd known before. She seemed to savor the feel of my weight on her body and she pressed herself against me in a way that made my blood hot, that made it race through my veins. I didn't trust myself to lie on top of her completely, to place myself between her legs. I was a man who knew his limitations, and that was why I chose the half on, half off option instead, which, if I remembered my time as a lusty lad correctly, was the proper position that one took when engaging in a little snogging and touchy-feely anyway…wasn't it?

It had been many years since I'd done this sort of thing. It was funny how unrequited love had the ability to ruin you where meaningless sexual encounters were concerned. All that it had taken was one look at my Evie to ensure that I wouldn't be able to lust after another woman, so, needless to say, I'd grown very close to my wanking hand as the years had gone by. I found it difficult to grasp the fact that the day was within sight where I would be able to make love to my woman. It was something that I'd fantasized about for so long, and now it was coming true…but not tonight. Tonight we were going to move on to the next step, and that step didn't have anything to do with getting starkers so I could roger her rigid, did it? That would happen later, after we slowly, but surely worked our way up to that level of intimacy. I would conduct myself as a gentleman, no matter what, come hell or high water…not to mention a killer case of blue balls.

She sighed softly, a happy sort of sound, and linked her fingers with mine as I kissed my way down her neck, reminding myself to go slowly the whole time. I made sure that there wasn't a single inch of that throat that didn't receive a kiss, pressing my nose close against her skin as I went and drawing in, savoring, her scent. I'd always enjoyed her perfume, but there was something about the way that it smelled when she was aroused that ranked it amongst my favorite scents. I suppose that it was due to the change in her body temperature, and her pulse, and it wasn't difficult to imagine that part of the reason that I enjoyed it so much was because I knew that _I_ was the reason that it smelled so good.

The hand that was joined with hers was lying on her belly, on that softly rounded place that seemed to bother her so much, which was odd, because I kind of liked it. I slowly drew my fingers away from hers and moved them upward, gliding the tips over her satiny flesh, until I reached the bottom of that black, lacy bit that was covering her breasts. There was nothing that I would have liked more than to slide my hand underneath it, to fill my palm to bursting with her softness and feel her nipple peaking against my skin, but that would be too much, too fast, wouldn't it?

That was why I kept my hand on the outside, moving upward, to cup her gently, while I continued to kiss my way down her neck, until I reached the rounded swells that were peeking over the top of the black lace. I felt her grow very still, and hold her breath, and for one awful moment I thought I was going to have to stop, but then she arched her back a bit and slowly, shakily exhaled, and I knew that I was alright.

"Oh, Alfred," she sighed, reaching up to tangle her hand in my hair. "That feels so good, sweetheart…please don't stop."

I smiled, and then opened my mouth, to run the tip of my tongue over the flesh that I'd been kissing, smiling again when I heard her gasp and felt her nipple grow harder against my palm.

"Don't worry, love," I whispered, gently biting the inner slope of her left breast. "I've got a couple of hours in me, at the very least, and I'll make sure that you have your fill before I stop."

A/N: Okay, okay…I admit it. That was a chapter filled with nothing but fluff and mushiness, but it seemed like the best direction for me to take at this time. Besides which, I'm a sucker for romance and this gave me the opportunity to revel in a little bit of sexy sweetness. For those of you who aren't as keen on that sort of thing as I am, you have my apologies for subjecting you to so much of it, and for those who love it as much as I do; I hope that you enjoyed each and every word. Happy Thanksgiving!


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Alfred's POV

I slowly became aware of the fact that there was something resting on my chest as I started to wake up, something that was small, warm, and lying right on top of the place where my heart was chugging away. I cracked open one eye and looked down to see what it was, and smiled when I saw that what I felt was Evie's hand holding onto my heart. I'd gotten so used to waking by myself, in a cold and empty bed, but lying there as I was, with her cradled close to my side, I knew that I would do anything and everything in my power to ensure that I never had to go through that again.

Her head was resting on my shoulder as she slept, and she had one leg thrown over my thighs…which meant that the soft, warm sweetness that was nestled between _her_ thighs was pressed against me as well. I found myself wishing that I hadn't worn my pajama pants to bed, the way I did every night, because then the only thing that would be separating my flesh from hers would be a layer of lace and thin cotton, but it had seemed like the best idea at the time. I suppose that it was probably for the best that I couldn't feel her as well as I would have liked to. After all, I did know myself pretty well, and knowing what I did, I had to admit that I might not have been able to resist the urge to be a naughty boy if I'd been able to feel anymore of her than I was at that moment, but that didn't stop the idea of removing said bottoms from forming in my head, did it?

Of course, it didn't help that she kept moving her hand back and forth on my chest, curling her fingertips as she did so, and then relaxing them, again and again, while she made a sound that was a cross between a whimper and a gasp. Judging by the sounds that she was making, and the way that she was moving against me, I was willing to bet that she was having an erotic dream, a damned good one too, unless I missed my guess, and I found myself growing envious of the lucky bugger that was making her all hot and bothered…until she moaned _my_ name, and it dawned on me that _I_ was the lucky bugger.

"I'll be damned," I whispered, followed by a groan when she started making noises that sounded like she had an orgasm within reach. "Is this some sort of test, hmm? Is that what this is, or am I just being punished for the sins of my past?"

It occurred to me that it might have been a little of both, a thought which did nothing whatsoever to make me feel any better, and it was followed by one that made me ashamed, one that would have had me taking advantage of my Evie, even though I had no intention of laying a hand on her. It was my own body that I wanted to touch with my hand, one place in particular, but it seemed kind of skeevy for me to pleasure myself in this situation…which was why I needed to sneak out of bed and head for the shower as quickly as possible.

Aw, flaming hell…now she was starting to make whimpering sounds, ones which were intermixed with words, things like "God, yes, please," and "Alfred…please…that's right, baby…oh, Alfred, _please_." Yes, there was no doubt about it. I could not deny that I was being tested, in addition to being punished, and I couldn't help but think that it was a load of bollocks. Yes, I'd done things in my life that I wasn't proud of, just as everyone else who'd ever drawn a breath of life had done, but had I ever done anything that was so bad that I deserved to be tortured this way?

I would have sworn that I could feel her getting hotter and wetter between her legs; even though I knew that there was no way that I would be able to tell. I couldn't really feel those changes taking place, just like I couldn't feel her growing more swollen as her arousal grew stronger and more insistent in nature, so much so that she was basically using my hip to masturbate. It would be the easiest thing in the world, to roll her over, onto her back, and place myself between her legs so that I could slide into what I knew was hot and wet and swollen…but it would also be the sort of behavior that a reprobate would employ, and that wasn't me.

"Oh, sweet God!" she cried suddenly, moving rapidly against me as she came apart at the seams. "Oh, God…oh, my God…oh, God…Alfred, I love you…oh, God, Alfred…I love you so much!"

Well, I'll be damned twice over. Who would have thought that she was in love with me? Granted, I knew that she cared about me, and I knew that she was attracted to me, but I'd never allowed myself to entertain the notion that she felt about me as I felt about her. I'd only allowed myself to imagine that such a thing was possible when I was spending time with my wanking hand. Your hopes and fantasies could never be too high when you were pleasuring yourself; it was one of those failsafe moments that rarely occurred at any other time in your life. I'd pictured making love to Evie countless times while my right hand was hard at work, and there had been several instances where she'd told me that she loved me, but now she'd done so in real life…well, in a manner of speaking, that is.

She trembled in the moments that followed her orgasm, cuddling as close to me as she could, and I held her tightly, staring at the ceiling and wondering how in hell I was going to manage to get out of bed with the cockstand that was plaguing me. Moving wasn't an easy task when one was on the verge of exploding, and that was where I was at that moment. There was a part of me, a wicked little bugger, who hoped that Evie might "accidently" brush her hand against my erection, because that would be the most pleasant way to bring about my release, but there was no way that I was going to allow him to sway me into his way of thinking…though I was tempted, and mightily so, to say the very least.

I turned my head to glance at the clock on my bedside table and swore as softly as I could beneath my breath when I saw that it was half past five. The damned thing was set to go off at six, and I knew that it would wake Evie with the first shrill _beep_, so that meant that I needed to get out of bed and into the shower _right now_. I suppose that I could have ignored my raging hard-on and went through the day with a hellacious case of blue balls, but that sort of thing tended to put me in a royal pisser of a mood, so I knew that my only choice was to "soothe" myself in the shower.

I doubt that anyone would agree that it was a miraculous event for me to be able to climb out of my bed, but nothing would convince me otherwise. I imagine that every man who's tried to maneuver any sort of moment, save for the ebb and flow of intercourse, would concur with the notion that I had managed to do something that was, at the very least, impressive by doing so. I was especially pleased by the fact that I managed to turn my head and kiss Evie on the forehead before I made my retreat. It would have been much easier for me to simply leave, but there was something that I needed to say to her first, and they were the sort of words that went best with a kiss, so I really didn't have any other choice, did I?

"I love you too," I whispered, closing my eyes and groaning, even as I smiled…or was that a grimace…because she sighed happily and rubbed her hand over my chest, right over my heart, in response. "My darling Evie, I love you so much that it hurts."

Thankfully, there was something that I could do to lessen some of that pain, and I practically ran to the bathroom to do so…hoping the whole way that she wouldn't waken and see me. I think that it was safe to say that most men had more than their fair share of pride, but I had more than most, and the last thing that I needed was to hear her tittering as I attempted to rush stiff-legged across my bedroom. She might think that I was nearly bursting with the need to pee, and that was something that said that I was an old man, with an old, pathetic bladder. I think that it was safe to say that I was as far from feeling like an old man as one could get at that moment, but I would still feel honor bound to prove otherwise to her if _she_ thought so, and would end up making an ass of myself in the end, and that was the last thing that either of us needed, wasn't it?

* * *

><p>Evie had been a regular ray of sunshine for most of the day, smiling to herself, even humming every now and then, one of those old dancing numbers from the Fifties that she liked so much. It had been all that I could do, to keep from revealing to her that I knew why she was so happy, but somehow I'd managed…but now she was all businesslike again, because Detective Gordon had come to pay us a visit.<p>

We were both busy in the study, tidying up, when he arrived. I felt like a fool, standing there in my bloody apron, of all things, while I polished the knicks and knacks, but I hadn't remembered that I was wearing the stupid thing until after I'd shown him inside. I knew that removing it in his presence would have clued him in to the fact that I was feeling the fool, so I left the damned thing right where it was, even though I wanted, more than anything, to chuck it across the room.

"I need you to give me a little info on the Wayne plan for Arkham Asylum," he said, beginning the visit in a way that was bound to set anyone's teeth on edge, with his choice of tone and the way that he was standing with his hands on his hips.

I smiled a bit, conveying polite good humor, as was expected from a man like me, in spite of the fact that he was behaving a little too much like a bloody cop for my taste.

"I see," I said softly, which was my go-to phrase when I was struggling against the urge to correct someone's manners for them. "The thing is, Detective, it's not the 'Wayne plan' any longer, is it, in any other way than its name? And the reason that it has to be that way is because when Mr. and Mrs. Wayne were murdered, Mr. Falcone took over to back the plan and word is that he stands to make a pretty profit if it passes, doesn't he?"

Gordon frowned and tilted his head to one side. "But the word was that Councilman Jenkins was backing Falcone's plan….."

"Then the word on that is correct," I interrupted, smiling once more as I did so.

"Then why was he killed?" Gordon asked, turning to move away from me, toward Evie, who was standing beside the fireplace. I suppose that he wasn't actually moving toward _her_. I imagine that he was just gathering his thoughts, but it seemed to me that he met her eyes as he moved in her direction…though that might have just been my jealous nature playing tricks on me.

"I'm not an authority on these matters, Detective, but it seems to me that the fact that there is a conflicting proposal in the works might have contributed to the Councilman's murder, wouldn't you agree?"

Gordon paused in front of the roaring flames of the fire and stared into its depths for a moment or two before he had an epiphany. "It was Maroni, wasn't it?" he asked, turning to move toward me once more. "He's the only one who has enough strength to make a play against Falcone, and he has his own plans for Arkham, doesn't he?"

There were times when I thought that I was the one who ought to be a detective, given how often I had to work out the clues of what was going on around me. That being said, Gordon was a good sort, a man of honor in a society that had forgotten the meaning of the word, and I couldn't help but like him…though I still couldn't bring myself to like the way that my Evie smiled at him.

"Do you think that they're related?"

I'd been so busy polishing the bits and bobs that I hadn't noticed Master Bruce enter the study. I tended to react badly when I was startled, and this time was no different from all of those that had come before it, but thankfully I managed to stifle the urge to bite the lad's head off. It was true that he would do well to respect the privacy of others, and lose his tendency to eavesdrop, but there was no need for me to be nasty about his lack of decorum, was there?

Evangeline's POV

"'A new Arkham Asylum will serve the mentally ill of Gotham in ways that the present asylum never can. Those poor, sick souls deserve our help.'"

Bruce ran his fingertips over the letter that he held in his hands, specifically over the signature, and sighed quietly, a soft, sad sound that seemed to be punching me in the chest. I was sitting beside him on the sofa, because he had asked me to do so, and everything inside of me said that I ought to reach for him, that I ought to comfort him, but how could I hope to be able to reach him through the miasma of grief that plagued him night and day?

"My mother wrote that, Detective," he said, once his emotions had receded somewhat. "She and my father were adamant that a new asylum be built; it was something that they'd fought for year after year. They were of the mind that if they could help those who needed them the most, it might prove to everyone that they still had a reason to hope. It was a dream of theirs, Detective, and I don't want that to die with them, not if there's something, _any_thing that can be done to keep their dream alive."

Detective Gordon smiled, at least that was what I assumed he was doing with his lips, though the result was a pale facsimile when compared with the genuine article.

"I can understand why you feel the way that you do, Bruce, but this is about more than Arkham Asylum. The last thing that Gotham needs is for a fight to break out between Falcone and Maroni. That would be all that it would take for a citywide turf battle to kickoff. It is the innocent citizens who would fall in that sort of fight, Bruce; they are the ones who would suffer, and every last shred of hope that the people possessed that the police force has the ability to protect them would be gone in the blink of an eye."

Bruce thought about that for a moment, his head tilting left, then right, before he settled his gaze solely on Gordon once more. "I guess that means that you'll have to stop that from happening, won't you, Detective?"

I saw the look that came over Gordon's face after that, the one that said that he was bothered by Bruce's unrelenting faith in his abilities. I knew that it bothered Alfred as well, because I thought that I might have heard him mutter something that was thoroughly rude beneath his breath…one stifled, yet impolite opinion, followed closely by another one that wasn't nearly as quiet as the first one had been when Gordon committed a cardinal sin by answering his phone mid-conversation. He might have recovered quickly, had the circumstances been better, but the fact that the detective didn't excuse himself before he answered said phone definitely worked against him.

I took advantage of the fact that Gordon was occupied to reach out to Master Bruce, to try a little experiment of sorts, to see how he would respond to me. He'd always been such a nice boy, so kind and considerate and loving. I'd never made the mistake of believing that he was mine, I'd always been careful to keep enough distance to ensure that I wouldn't allow myself to get too attached, but that hadn't stopped me from loving him. I had the sort of heart that couldn't help itself, when it loved; it did so completely, no matter what the consequences for doing so might be.

"Did you know that your mother kept a journal about her life with you, Master Bruce?" I asked softly, in a bid to keep our discussion as private as I could. "She started a new one with every year of your life, in addition to the one that she began when she found out that she was pregnant with you."

He grew very still for just a moment, and then turned to gaze at me with an expression in his eyes that lifted my spirits, because it looked very much like hopefulness.

"No, I didn't know about that," he replied, "she never told me, Vangie."

There was something in his voice, a hint of hesitation, which told me that he might have been thinking that he wasn't supposed to know about his mother's journals. Maybe he thought that she'd been keeping them from him because she didn't want him to know about them, and I rushed to explain things to him, before he could jump to the wrong conclusion.

"She wanted to keep them a secret until you were grown," I explained, recalling the way that Mrs. Wayne had penned an entry into the latest leather-bound journal each and every night before she went to bed. "They were going to be a wedding present for your wife, so she could look back and see what you were like, what changes you underwent with each year of your life. I suppose that they can still be kept for that purpose, Master Bruce, if that is what you would like, but I thought that you might want to read them right now, for yourself, to give you a little more time with your mother….."

My voice trailed away as it dawned on me that I might have been making a mistake. I found myself wishing that Alfred would say something, anything, to give me an idea of where I ought to go with the conversation, but he hadn't said a word up until that point, and he seemed to be perfectly content with the notion of remaining silent. What if I'd just torn open the wound on Bruce's heart that had barely begun to heal? Why hadn't I been content to keep my mouth shut, instead of opening it in a bid to "help" the boy?

"She always did have the best ideas, didn't she, Vangie?" Bruce murmured, turning to smile at me, even as tears filled his eyes. "I imagine that will be a nice present for the woman I marry…many, _many_ years from now…but I would like to read them before then, this afternoon, if that would be alright."

I smiled at him in return, a beam that grew bigger and brighter when he moved to sit closer to me on the couch. "Yes, she did, Master Bruce, and it will be a wonderful gift for the woman you love," I told him, drawing in a deep breath and holding it when he leaned his head against my shoulder and held it there, for the barest of moments, before he moved away from me once more. "And I imagine that they will be a comfort to you as well, so yes, I will bring them to you this afternoon, and you can look back at yourself through her eyes, as many times as you like."

* * *

><p><em>I was lying on my side, facing one of the hedges in the garden, and smiling as I watched a large Monarch butterfly flutter about. The sun was hiding itself behind a bank of clouds that were hovering above Wayne Manor, and the grass beneath me was plush and warm. My eyelids grew increasingly heavier as I watched the orange and black butterfly flap its wings, until I could not resist the urge to close them…..<em>

_Wait a minute…why was I laying down in the hedgerow…and why was it so warm at this time of year…and what was that tickling its way along my calf?_

_It would have been the most natural thing in the world to sit up and frantically search out the source of the warm creature that was slowly caressing its way up my leg, moving past my knee and onto my inner thigh, but for some reason I resisted the urge to do so. It made no sense at all to lay still and enjoy the sensation, but nothing else seemed normal, so why on earth would I be expected to do what made the most sense?_

_I felt something that was long and warm and solid move to lay behind me, and I snuggled backward, so that I could be as snug as a bug in a rug, as my Grandma used to say, and my backside met something that was rock-hard in nature. Well, now, that didn't make any sense either…and why could I hear gasps and growling sounds whenever I wriggled my bottom?_

_The warm roughness on my thigh moved higher and higher, slipping inside the band of my stocking and then moving back to the soft, supersensitive flesh that was right beneath my most private place. I felt my hair being drawn aside, to bare my nape, and I shivered from head-to-toe as I felt something touch me, as I felt a gentle caress again and again. I hoped that the presence on my thigh might follow suit, that it might close the distance that rested between it and the place between my legs that was beginning to ache with need, but it stayed right where it was, gently tormenting me….._

"_My sweet girl," a voice whispered in my ear, a soft, husky and wonderfully familiar voice, one that I could feel between my thighs, touching me where the warm roughness wouldn't. "You turn me inside out and upside-down, and I would love to do the same to you, but I want you to be awake when I do so….."_

My eyes flew open and suddenly the hedge disappeared, the butterfly vanished, and I realized that the plush warmth that I could feel beneath me was the mattress on my bed. I did not know what had possessed me to lie down in the middle of the day. Naps were something that belonged to children and the elderly, yet here I was…and I wasn't alone.

Oh, God. Did his words mean that he'd still been in bed with me when I'd had that dream this morning? I'd been so relieved when I'd woken, with the most delicious ache between my legs and a warm, tingly feeling coursing all throughout my body. Granted, I'd been a tad bit sad that I'd imagined it all, because it had been a dream come true to make love to him, to be held tightly in his arms and feel him all over, to feel him slipping in and out…no, I couldn't think about that, otherwise I might start moaning again, moving closer and closer to a mind-blowing orgasm…and then I would slip and tell him that I loved him again. It was too soon for me to tell him that…so why was I so sure that I already had, and why couldn't I shake the feeling that he'd responded in kind?

"It's no good for you to play possum with me, darling," Alfred murmured, moving his hand, the one that was resting between my thighs, almost, but not quite touching me _there_, around the place that I so desperately wanted him to touch, ever upward, until his palm was resting on my tummy, right above the waistband of my panties. "I know that you're awake, I know that you have been for some time now, and I'm not going to do anything else until you turn around and face me."

I took one deep breath, followed closely by another, gathering all of my courage, and then did as he'd asked. His eyelids were lowered just a bit, and the blatant desire that showed itself in his gaze instinctively called me closer to his body, my former self-consciousness be damned. I wanted to touch him, I _needed_ to touch him, and something told me that he felt the same way, and why should either of us be denied what we were feeling?

"Alfred," I murmured, lifting my leg, to place the side of my knee on his hip. "Sweetheart….."

He hushed me by pressing his lips against mine, then moved back to smile at me. His ninetieth grin was the naughtiest one that I'd seen so far, and that was really saying something, because I'd seen quite a few that were the personification of lasciviousness lately. There was something else there as well, a hint of what I would have called snugness and a look that told me that he knew my secret…that he knew _all_ of my secrets.

"What happened to calling me your 'baby'?" he asked softly, running his hand down my leg and using his touch to move me closer, to thrust me against the proof of his arousal. "That's what you were calling me this morning, and I would like to hear you call me that again, if that would be okay with you, Evie love."


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Evangeline's POV

Alfred's fingers were lithe and deft as they opened the buttons on my dress. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue, and the way that they were speaking to me made me weak in the knees. Fortunately for me, I was already laying down; otherwise I would have sunk down to the floor to form a human puddle. I laid my hand on his chest and locked my eyes onto his as his heart pounded against my palm, a strong, steady rhythm that quickened when I lifted my head to touch my lips to his throat.

He opened the first button and drew the material aside, baring my neck for his lips. He ran his hand beneath my skirt once more as he kissed my throat, caressing my knee and the sensitive flesh that backed it, before he took hold of me and moved the softness between my legs against the swollen front of his trousers. My breath caught on a gasp as he touched me in a way that was just right, and then escaped me in a whimper as he did it again…and again…and again.

"Does that feel good?" he whispered, running the tip of his tongue over the hollow of my throat. "Well, c'mon, darling…don't be shy…tell me what I want to know."

I gasped as he moved his mouth back up to my throat and bit me, very gently, then licked away the tiny sting. "Y-yes," I stammered, humming with pleasure as he suckled the spot that he'd nipped, and then laved with his tongue. "Alfred, sweetheart…mmm…that feels so good."

He chuckled and opened the second button, drawing back the fabric of my dress to bare the swells of my breasts. "Why not call me 'baby' instead?" he asked, dropping his voice, until it was a soft, yet roughened growl. "That was what you called me this morning, wasn't it, love?"

Oh, God…that dream that hadn't been reality, no matter how much I'd wanted it to be, but it may as well have been. If I closed my eyes I could still see his face above mine, I could picture the expressions that had taken hold of it as he'd moved between my thighs. I could hear the rustling sheets, and the steady creaking of the bed. I could smell his aftershave; I could taste myself on his lips, because he'd kissed me down…..

"My, _my_, what are you thinking of, Evie darling?" he whispered, in a tone that told me that he knew _exactly_ what I was thinking about. He dipped his head and kissed the swell of my breasts, first one, and then the other, growling appreciatively as he nuzzled the tip of his nose in my cleavage. "C'mon, sweetheart, don't hide from me. I won't deny that I love to see you blush, but I'd still like to hear the words, instead of just imagining them."

He opened the third button as he spoke, the one that rested between my breasts, and I indulged his desire to see me blush as the full bounty of my cleavage was placed on display. I'd always been what some might call a "busty" girl, and I wasn't sure if he liked that sort of thing or not. I knew that there were those who would swear up-and-down that every man who was of the heterosexual tendency liked big breasts on a woman, but I'd never been one to buy into that theory.

"I can't say those things out loud," I whispered, grabbing at the blanket that covered my bed as he flicked open the fourth button, followed closely by the fifth, until my dress was open to the waist. "It's bad enough, to know that you heard everything this morning, when I was asleep and there was no danger of me feeling self-conscious….."

My voice died away in gasp as he unfastened the snap of my bra, which was nestled between my breasts, without so much as a warning that he intended to do so. It was all that I could do, to keep my fingers twined in the bedclothes, when what they wanted, more than anything, was to take hold of the material of my dress and cover myself from his gaze.

"You ought to know better than that, Evie love," he murmured, slowly pulling back on each cup of my bra, to bare me completely. "There's no greater joy for a man than to know that he was able to give that one woman so much pleasure. It doesn't matter that it all took place in a dream, because it was still my name that you were calling. I'm glad that I was there to hear you, to feel you this morning, but that wasn't enough. I want to hear you right now…I want to _feel_ you right now…and I don't want you to hide from me any longer."

My panting breaths became one whimper, followed closely by another as he bent his head and kissed each of my breasts, gently running his lips between my cleavage, and then the tip of his tongue. He teased me that way for several moments, until I was practically writhing on the bed, and then he moved to take one of my nipples into his mouth. I drew in a quick, startled breath and held it for one second, then two, before I slowly and shakily released it as the tip of his tongue traced over my swollen flesh.

I remembered a summer several years back, when the weather had turned almost unbearably hot. Alfred had acquired several bushels of peaches in that time and had recruited my assistance to make jar after jar of peach jam, and the fruit that wasn't used for that purpose had been cut up and vacuum sealed, then placed in the freezer, all but the bit that he'd set aside to be made into a batch of homemade ice cream. I could still taste that ice cream, nothing had ever tasted better…and nothing had ever been more stirring than to watch Alfred partaking of that frozen treat.

He'd piled a cone high with double scoops of the ice cream and sat beside me on the back stairs to enjoy it. I could still recall the way that I'd watched, wide-eyed and breathless, as he'd slowly licked the mound of ice cream with his tongue, then traced the tip of said tongue over his lips, to capture any and all of the sweet treat that hadn't gone directly into his mouth. It was in that moment that I'd become acutely aware of the things that he did that were thoroughly sensual in nature…and now _I_ was his ice cream cone.

My nipples had always been sensitive, they reacted to the slightest touch, but they'd never been touched in this way, and I delved my fingers into his hair and whimpered his name as he tugged, very gently, on my flesh. I could get used to this, I could become obsessed with this, and I wondered, for just a moment, if there were any other women who felt the way that I did. I could imagine that there were quite a few of them, but I was willing to wager that none of them had a man who was nearly as good at it as my Alfred was.

"Oh, Al_fr_ed," I moaned, drawing my bottom lip between my teeth as he found my lonely nipple with his fingertips and gave it attention as well. "Oh, God…_baby_, yes."

He slowly drew his mouth away from me and smiled, his ninety-first grin, which personified self-satisfaction. "See now, that wasn't so hard, was it, love?"

It _had_ been difficult for me to speak the endearment aloud, because doing so not only meant that I had to take official notice of the fact that he'd overheard my dream, but that he'd heard each and every word that I'd spoken as well. I suppose that it was possible that I hadn't said _everything_ out loud. There was a chance that some of the words might have only been said, or, rather, whimpered, in my dream…but what if they hadn't? What if I really had told him that I loved him?

"There's no need for you to be ill-at-ease, sweetheart," he said, slipping his hand beneath my skirt and running it along the length of my leg. "There was nothing that you said or did that didn't thrill me, and I just want to relive that moment, while you're wide-awake, so I know that you meant each and every thing that you said while you were sleeping."

His fingertips ran beneath the band of my stocking, tickling the sensitive flesh on my inner thigh, and continued to climb, higher and higher, until he was almost, but not quite touching me _there_. Did he mean that I had told him that I loved him, and, if so, did that mean that my words hadn't unsettled him? I knew that there were those who would say that it was too soon for us to be voicing such a strong emotion aloud, but they would be basing their opinion on the short time that we'd been together, and discounting the years that I'd been in love with him. I couldn't say that he loved me, he'd never told me one way or the other, but I did know that he cared about me, that he was attracted to me, and that was enough…for now.

"I did mean it, Alfred," I whispered, moving my hands to his chest. He'd removed his tie, his jacket and his vest before he'd stretched out beside me on my bed, but he'd left his shirt on, and it was my pleasure to undo his buttons and strip him down to, then out of it, followed closely by his undershirt. "That's not the first time that I've had that dream, and I'm pretty sure that it won't be the last time either….."

He shushed me by pressing his lips to mine and kissing me with a ferocity that left me feeling breathless and weak in the knees. "Put your hands on me, darling," he rasped, moving his hand to my backside and slipping his fingertips beneath the elastic that encircled the legs. "You're not the only one with dreams, love, and I think it's time we make some of them come true, innit?"

I froze when I felt his fingertip moving along the curve of my bottom, and then shivered from head-to-toe as I closed the miniscule space that rested between us, and pressed my chest against his. His body was long and lean and well-muscled. I couldn't even begin to count all of the times that I'd pictured feeling him against me in this way, and I wasn't ashamed to admit that I'd fantasized about the hair on his chest rasping against my nipples. What surprised me was the fact that I hadn't imagined anything that was nearly as exciting as what I was experiencing. I suppose that it stood to reason that fantasy could never come close to reality…I just hoped that I would be able to conduct myself as a lady, given that I was already a mere hairbreadth away from ripping off his clothes and having my way with him.

"Did I touch you like this?" I asked, running my fingertips down his chest and biting back a self-satisfied smile when I heard his breath catch in his throat as I lingered over his nipples. "Did I only use my hands, or should I use my mouth as well? You're going to have to help me, darling….."

"You can touch me anywhere, anyway, with anything that you want, Evie love," he said, his always seductive and tantalizing tone made even more so by the fact that his voice was filled with so much desire. "You've touched me everywhere in my dreams over the years, both gently and roughly, and you've used your hands, your mouth, your teeth, your tongue…and that soft sweetness that's nestled between your thighs….."

Oh, dear God. I was never going to be able to get the upper hand on him where enticement was concerned, was I? Just when I thought that I'd finally managed to turn the tables, to take over as the aggressor, he would do, or say, or do and say, something that would give him an advantage over me. It wasn't that I was complaining, far from it, but I couldn't help but hope that the day would arrive when _he_ would be the one who was left feeling completely bowled over, instead of me, or, rather, instead of _only_ me.

"Would you just look at that blush," he said mischievously, grinning in a way that made that ache that he'd brought to life in "that soft sweetness" that was "nestled between my thighs" quiver once, then twice, before it settled into a steady, more insistent rhythm. "It's all over your face, and your neck, and, mm-hmm, on your bubbies as well, isn't it, love?"

There was no way that I could look at myself to see how red I was, but I didn't need to look, because I could feel the heat of the flush all over. I could feel it on my face, on my neck and my "bubbies"…and in other areas which, thankfully, _neither_ of us could see.

"Aw, Evie, I was just teasing you," he said, laying his palm on my cheek, to make me face him, when my eyes tried to land on anything and everything but him. "You shouldn't be ashamed of blushing, darling, because you always look so pretty when you're red in the face…downright gorgeous, as a matter of fact."

I would imagine that it was flattering for every woman to hear herself described as "gorgeous" by the man she loved, and I was no different. His words caught hold of me completely and I reveled in them, I basked and glowed in them…and then I found myself biting back a shout that was part shock, part pleasure when he moved his hand between my legs and touched me _there_.

I was still wearing my panties, they were right where they'd been the entire time, but I may as well have been as naked as the day that I'd been born. I could feel the heat of his fingers as they cupped me, I could feel his calloused flesh, and it was in that moment that I realized how close to the brink I was. Granted, it hadn't escaped my attention that I was aroused, almost painfully so, but I hadn't truly noticed how close to orgasm I was, not until he touched me.

"Blimey," Alfred whispered, staring down into my eyes before he bent to touch his lips, almost reverently, to mine. "Evie, love, you're so soft there. I can feel how wet you are, how swollen you are, even though there's lace and cotton between us. You really _do_ like me, don't you…_baby_?"

That was all that it took, that one whispered endearment, to make me go to pieces…well, that, and one gentle, but firm stroke of his fingers against my flesh. That was all the invitation that I needed to topple over the edge, headlong into an orgasm that proved to me, with no question whatsoever, that I had never really known what it meant to climax. It wasn't difficult to imagine that I would be embarrassed later on, once everything had calmed down and I had a chance to think about things, but at that moment I couldn't have cared less that I was practically screaming as I came. I didn't give a thought to the fact that there were tears streaming down my cheeks, and it didn't bother me in the least that I was writhing around on the bed like a wanton woman. The only thing that I cared about was how good it felt, to come so completely, and I was going to savor the sensation for as long as I could.

I suppose that I ought to have been just a tad bit embarrassed once I began to settle down. After all, I'd made quite a spectacle of myself, and this was the first time that Alfred and I had taken things this far, which meant that I ought to have been a little self-conscious…but I wasn't. I was too blissfully warm, too sleepy and dazed to feel any sort of awkwardness or bashfulness. The only thing that I wanted to do was curl up in his arms and go back to sleep, which was what I might have done, had I not taken notice of his quickened breathing, his pounding heart…and the way that the swelling in his trousers seemed to have doubled in size.

"You dear, sweet man," I whispered, taken aback by the timbre of my voice, so soft and sensual, almost honeyed, just husky as well…the sound of a well pleasured woman. "You made me feel so good, and now it's my turn to do the same for you."

I could see that it pleased him to hear me say that he'd done a good job. Of course, I was fairly certain that he already knew that, given the way that I'd carried on, but I remembered that he liked to hear the words spoken aloud, and I was happy to accommodate him. I was also happy to place my hands on his chest, so my fingertips could stroke his nipples, while I placed my mouth on his neck, and his lips, and his ear, kissing and suckling and gently biting, while one of my hands traveled downward and found the proof of his arousal.

He made a sound, one that was a combination of a groan and a growl, followed closely by a gasp of my name as I trailed my fingers along the length of him, and traced out his girth, which I found to be very impressive, with one stroke up, one down, and one across. I suppose that I ought to have been ashamed of all of the times that I'd glanced at the front of his trousers and wondered about the dimensions of what lay beneath his fly, but I'd never felt any shame, not even once, and this time was no different.

"You don't have to do that, love," he whispered, in a shaky tone that conveyed that he wanted me to continue, it seemed that he might have even needed me to do so, but he was clearly leaving the choice to me. "I don't expect you to make me…well, what I mean is that you don't have to do anything that might make you uncomfortable….."

I leaned forward and shushed him with a kiss, one that he returned with all of the hunger and intensity that only an unfulfilled man can muster. I closed my eyes as his hands found my breasts, and released a tiny whimper as his fingertips encircled my nipples…and then I forced myself to regain control of the situation. I was not going to be the only one who'd leave this room completely sated, not if I had anything to say about it, and given the circumstances, I thought that I had the situation well in hand.

"Oh, I don't know," I told him quietly, steadily stroking one finger up and down his straining flesh. "I think that I do have to do this, sweetheart, otherwise you're going to be very uncomfortable…_you_, not me. Besides which, I want to make you feel good as well, and how am I going to do that if I let you leave in this condition?"

I'd never seen Alfred look so nervous, most times he personified "cool as a cucumber", but he was downright shifty-eyed at that moment. What he wanted, and needed, was obvious to me, but he was bound and determined to be chivalrous to the end. There was a large part of me that admired him for that, but there was also a tiny part that refused to allow him to be so stubborn, to be the one who was always, without fail, the one who was in charge, which was why it came as no surprise to me when the underdog in my inner fight took the title.

"I'll leave you alone, if that is what you really want...or I'll make you feel as good as you made me feel, if you want me to," I continued, moving my hand away from him…only to have him surge his hips until I was touching him once more. "I want to do what will make you happy, but you have to tell me what you want, baby, you have to tell me what you need."

"Oh, God," he whispered, bending his head, to place his face in the crook of my neck. He stayed that way for several moments, saying nothing, just breathing in my scent, over and over again, before he said, very quietly, "I'll ruin my trousers, won't I, love?"

It was all that I could do to keep the giggle that rose up inside me to myself, but somehow I managed to do so. It wasn't that I wanted to laugh at him because I thought that he was foolish, but because it seemed so odd, to know that his concern over the condition of his trousers was the final thing that was holding him back.

"No, you won't ruin them, Alfred," I assured him, raising his face with one hand, so I could kiss him, while the other went on to do its part to make him feel as good as I possibly could, given the restrictions that were in place. "You'll stain them, there's no denying that, but I'll clean them for you, if you want me to."

Alfred's POV

She'd made me come in my trousers. Here I was, a mature man in his fifties, who'd known a handful of lovers in his lifetime, yet she'd made me behave like an untried lad who was catching his first whiff of the feminine delicacy that rested between a woman's thighs. The worst part was the fact that I'd nearly gone blind from the pleasure, and I'd filled the room with the vocalizations of said pleasure as well. Don't get me wrong, I'd loved each and every moment of the encounter, but how pathetic was I to have come so hard from a stroking through my britches? How in hell could I hope to last longer than five seconds once I'd finally entered paradise, so to speak, if all that it took was the touch of her hand…through my bloody trousers and pants…to set me off like a roman candle?

Even worse than my premature performance was the fact that I hadn't even bothered to make an attempt at a second round later that night, as any male in my place ought to have done. I'd been too damned busy falling asleep in my bed, cradled in her arms, watching an old episode of Doctor Who. One minute I was watching the Doctor save the Master's arse for what had to be the umpteenth time, and the next minute I was snoring…or so I assume. Apparently my lack of vigor hadn't bothered Evie, because she'd fallen asleep as well, or so she said, but what did it say about my prospects for the long run, if all that I could manage was one orgasm per day?

These were the thoughts that plagued my mind as I made my way to the study to wake Master Bruce with the news that I had accepted a luncheon invitation on his behalf. I was of two minds as I made my way down the corridor. A good portion of my feelings consisted of pleasurable memories, while the smaller bit was wrapped up in thoughts that were as dark as thunderclouds, so, needless to say, my mood was a little jumbled, to say the very least, and all that it took was one look at the cluttered room that the boy had adopted as his sleeping quarters to set off my temper.

"Do you not have any respect at all?" I growled softly, and made my way to the curtains, throwing them open with enough ferocity to nearly pull the bloody things off of the wall. "Just think of what your mother would say if she could see the shamble you've made of this room, Master Bruce."

The boy, who'd been stretched out, sound asleep, on the sofa, slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes, blinking at me in confusion. He wasn't awake enough to have allowed fear to set in, and that was a good thing, because that meant that I had a chance to rein in my temper. I reminded myself that he was just a boy, and that he'd just endured a horrific tragedy. I remembered that it was always best to be patient and kind, and to my relief I felt my anger recede somewhat, though it didn't leave me completely. It was at that moment that I realized that I needed a hug. I needed Evie to sort me out, and I wondered when I'd allowed myself to grow so weak…until it dawned on me that she made me strong, and then I felt much better.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Alfred's POV

I wondered what Mr. Wayne would say, if he could see the state of his study at that moment. I had a good idea what his missus would say, but she would never raise her voice to say it, and neither would her husband. They'd both been the sort that was cool and calm and collected at all times, and that was how I was going to have to act as well. It didn't matter that I wanted to shout and throw the bloody boxes that the boy had piled all about across the room, straight into the fire. I was going to control my temper, no matter how much it hurt to do so…though, now that I thought about it, there was nothing that said that I had to suffer in silence, was there?

"There's nothing that I would like better than to chuck all of this rubbish into the bloody fire," I said, pantomiming what I would like to do, though it was probably a waste of my time, given that Master Bruce wasn't quite awake.

"Nothing in the fire, Alfred," the boy said sleepily, stretching his arms up over his head while he yawned, then rubbed his eyes.

"Yeah, well, we'll just see about that, won't we?" I replied, straightening my back and tidying my vest before I continued, which was, I suppose, my own way of maintaining a firm grip on my self-control. "Whatever the solution to this bloody mess, it comes second to the fact that it's long past time for you to rise and shine, isn't it, Master Bruce?"

The boy made some sort of noise, a grunting sound which may or may not have meant that he agreed with me, but I decided that it was the former, rather than the latter, and that was what it would be. "Wayne Enterprises is acting as host for a charitable luncheon tomorrow afternoon, and I accepted their invitation on your behalf, given that you decided to have a lie-in this morning, Master Bruce….."

"That's good, Alfred," the lad replied, turning his attention to the damnable files that covered the coffee table. "Is there any breakfast left?"

I'd fully expected him to give me a lot of guff about getting out of the house; I'd prepared myself for any and every excuse that he might have come up with, so needless to say, I was caught completely off-guard when he offered no argument at all.

"Um, well, yeah, I can scramble you an egg," I said, knowing full well that my bewilderment was showing itself, plain as day, on my face, and not liking it one bit. "Does that mean that you'll make an appearance at the luncheon tomorrow, Master Bruce?"

"Of course," he replied, matter-of-factly, as if he believed I'd grown a little feebleminded overnight. "There are some questions that I'd like to ask the board members, and this luncheon would be the ideal place for me to speak with them, wouldn't it?"

Hmm…that didn't bode well, did it? "And what sort of questions might those be, Master Bruce?"

"I want to know more about this recent business with Arkham Asylum," he replied, turning his attention to me, but only for a moment, before he returned to his files. "I hate to say it, but it seems that those goons were likely given their holdings in Arkham by Wayne Enterprises, and I'd like to know the reason why."

A lad his age oughtn't to be worrying about such things, hell, he shouldn't even be _thinking_ of such things, yet the young master's mind was filled with those sort of thoughts and notions at all hours of the day and night. I knew that a person couldn't stay childlike forever, it wasn't realistic, and it was inevitable that each and every person would become at least somewhat jaded during their life, but why did I have to witness the loss of Bruce's innocence firsthand?

"I suppose that's the way that business is done, isn't it, Master Bruce?"

There was truth to be found in my answer, more than I liked to acknowledge, but it made the boy's eyes dim somewhat, and I hated knowing that _I_ was the one who'd just made the ugliness of the world a little clearer to him. I suppose that there were those who would say that it was for the best, to show him what life was truly like, to do away with ideals which would only hurt him in the end, but could they even remember what it was like to believe in the best?

"Is it, Alfred?" he asked, locking his eyes onto mine, as if he was searching for the truth in my gaze. "It can't be, because my parents didn't do business in that way…did they?"

His words gave me pause and I wondered how on earth I would be able to explain to him that his parents had been oddities in the world that we lived in. On one hand, it would be the best for him to hear that they'd been good and honorable people, on the other, how could I possibly hope to explain to him that they'd been taken from him _because_ they'd been good and honorable people?

"No, Master Bruce," I said quietly, crossing my arms behind my back. "They would never have done business that way."

He nodded and almost smiled, obviously satisfied by my answer…and then he turned his attention back to those bloody files. "There's always a chance that the board might not know that this is happening," he said, opening one of the folders and perusing the pages within. "There's often a good deal of smokescreens used in these situations, in the form of shell companies, offshore accounts and so on and so forth….."

His voice trailed away as he continued to read, totally disregarding me, as if I'd turned invisible…though, now that I thought about it, I suppose that I may as well have been that way the entire time, for all the notice that he'd given me. It was truly impressive, how quickly he'd learned the ins and outs of not only Wayne Enterprises, but also of the scumbags who slithered about in the world of business. That being said, I didn't care for being treated like a faceless, nameless being that only existed to see to his basic needs, and as such my temper spiked a bit in response to his attitude.

"I take it that you've learned all of that from _this,_ right?" I asked, gesturing at the files that covered the table and the boxes that were strewn all over the floor. "Brilliant detective work there, Master Bruce. That does not mean that I wouldn't be pleased, ecstatic in fact, if I could take the entire bloody lot of this rubbish and toss it into the fire….."

"You're not to put anything into the fire, Alfred," the boy said firmly, as if he were speaking to a naughty child. "Nothing goes into the fire, not now, not ever…that's an order."

He'd given me an order. It had been a good many years since I'd been given one of those, and the fact that it was a child who'd given it to me, not my commanding officer, not my father or my mother, but a _child_ who'd done so set my teeth on edge, to say the very least. I could feel my jaw growing tight as I ground my teeth together, and I wanted nothing more than to give the cheeky little blighter a talking-to that he'd never forget. Fortunately, I realized the boundaries of my patience, not to mention my self-control, and I managed to swallow everything that I would have liked to say in exchange for words that would not hurt him.

"Right you are, Master Bruce," I replied, turning to leave the room before my temper flared out of control and got the best of me. "I won't put anything into the fire."

Evangeline's POV

It wasn't surprising to find Alfred in the kitchen, preparing a late breakfast for Master Bruce. He might say that mealtimes were to be strictly observed, he might say that it was a "rule" that he faithfully adhered, and that he expected everyone else to do the same, but he wasn't about to sit back and allow the boy to go hungry. I'd fully expected to find him busily preparing a meal in the kitchen after Bruce had missed breakfast, so it came as no surprise to find him there, doing just that…but there was something that wasn't right.

The air was redolent with the scents of sausage and eggs, along with cinnamon toast and hashed browns. There was a plate waiting to be filled on the warmer, and a tray waiting beside it, one that held a cut crystal vase with a single camellia and a starched napkin topped with gleaming silverware. All in all, everything was just as it ought to be, well, everything that wasn't the handsome man in the long black apron, that is.

I knew that he had heard me enter the kitchen, I saw his awareness in the way that he stood up a little straighter, but he didn't turn around to greet me. He went on preparing the meal, handling the cookware and crockery more roughly than he normally would have done, and I wondered what could have possibly happened that would put him in such a foul mood. I knew that he was a little embarrassed about what had happened the day before, and what _hadn't_ happened last night, but that wouldn't have made him this angry…would it?

"Do you need some help?" I asked quietly, knowing even as I spoke that he would turn down my offer. "Is there anything that I can do for you, Alfred?"

It occurred to me that my words might sound suggestive to him, and there was a big part of me that hoped that he might take them that way. At that moment, with that feeling of dread that was taking root in my tummy, I would have loved for him to turn around and offer me his most lascivious gaze…but he didn't. He turned to place the food onto the warmed plate, and all of his attention was centered solely on his task. I might have been tempted to tell him to stop acting like a spoiled child, had his behavior had its roots solely based in anger, but all that it took was one look at his face to know that he was sad as well, and that was all the encouragement that I needed to cross the kitchen and wrap my arms around his waist.

"You dear man," I whispered, tightening my hold on him and nuzzling my nose against his chest. "What on earth has brought this about, sweetheart? And don't bother telling me that nothing is wrong, because I know better than that, don't I?"

He took one deep, shuddering breath, followed closely by another and then he gave up the fight and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me up onto my tiptoes with the ferocity of his embrace. He bent his head and placed his nose against my throat, breathing deeply for several moments, until the muscles in his back began to loosen somewhat as he relaxed.

"I assume that I've told you about my parents, haven't I?" he asked, holding his face against me as he spoke and kissing me softly on the spot where my blood surged and raced before he continued. "My father was the butler here for a good amount of his life, serving first Patrick Wayne, then Thomas, and my mother served as housekeeper until my father passed on and left his position to me. I spent my summers here, at Wayne Manor, and the rest of the year I lived with my Gran."

He paused for a moment and kissed me again. I wasn't certain if he wanted me to answer him, and even if he did, what would I say? Was he waiting for me to make a noise of some sort that would assure him that I was listening to him, or did he simply want me to give him my undivided, but silent, attention? I couldn't decide what I ought to do, and he wasn't offering any suggestions, so I decided to give him whatever comfort I could with my touch, in the hope that he might take solace from a shoulder to lean on and a sympathetic ear.

"My father and mother were never, to my knowledge, made to feel like they were nothing more than servants. That's not to say that they didn't have their ideas about such things, about what their place in the household was, and they passed those beliefs onto me. I learned that you not only took care of the home and its owners for the pay, but because their comfort and their safety was important to you. They were to be respected and regarded as part of your family, even if you weren't particularly a part of theirs."

I'd always found that to be one of the hardest parts of my job, to remember that I wasn't an official member of the family. Granted, Mr. and Mrs. Wayne had always made me feel as though I was, and Bruce had as well, but deep down I knew that I wasn't. It didn't bother me as much as it could have, because I had my family back home, but it had to have been very lonesome for Alfred, whose mother and sister were an ocean's length away from him. That being said, how was all of this related to the drastic change in his mood? What could have been said, or done, that would affect him this way?

"It's easy enough to place those sorts of boundaries on your mind," he continued, "but your heart is a different story altogether. I know that my father loved the Wayne family, and my mother did, my mother _does_, as well. In all of their time with this household they were made to feel like they were essential members of the estate, they were treated like family, and, to my recollection, they were never, _ever_ given an official 'order'. I've always striven to follow their example to a tee, and I believe that I've always exceeded their expectations, while maintaining my own…I've always been the very best that I could be….."

I didn't think that it was possible for him to hold me any tighter than he was, but he proved me wrong by bringing me even closer, until you couldn't have slid a single piece of paper between our bodies. I knew that my dress was going to need ironing after this embrace, because he had his hands twined in the material, twisting little bits of it with his fingers, but I didn't care about the extra work. All that I cared about was making him feel better; all I cared about was making him smile again. I held him just as tightly as he held me, stroking his hair and kissing his cheek, to let him know that I would do anything and everything that I could to show him that everything was going to be alright.

"No one could ever say differently, sweetheart," I murmured, biting back a gasp when his lips found, and took hold of mine, kissing me fervently for several moments before he moved his head back to my shoulder. It took me a few seconds to get my thoughts back on track, but finally it dawned on me, through my daze, that I had been comforting him before he kissed me, and after a full minute passed, I remembered what I'd been saying. "No one could ever find fault with you, Alfred, not when you've always made it your first priority to be the best that you could be, so why do I have the feeling that someone, that being Master Bruce, has complained about something?"

He drew away from me, so he could look into my eyes, but he kept a tight grip on my hand. "It's those bloody boxes that he's got piled all over his father's study," he said softly, turning my hand over, so that my palm was facing up. He fixed his gaze on my hand, on the lines that covered my palm, and watched as his fingertip traced their pattern, over and over again. "It frustrates me every time I go into that room, to see them lying about, knowing that his parents wouldn't like it. I wouldn't have really thrown them into the fire. That was just my irritation talking, so why did he….?"

His voiced trailed away as he lifted my hand and pressed his lips against the center of my palm, one kiss, followed closely by another, and another, and then I had to swallow a whimper as the tip of his tongue swirled over my flesh. I suppose that this was his way of calming himself, just as the hug had been, but that didn't stop me from responding to him, though I endeavored to do so as quietly as I possibly could.

"So 'why did he' what, darling?" I asked, wincing, to myself, when I heard the huskiness in my tone.

He took a deep breath and raised his eyes to mine. "Why couldn't he just tell me to leave those damned boxes, with their bloody files, where they were, love? I would have listened, I wouldn't have argued with him, so why did he have to _order_ me to leave them be? My father and mother never received an official 'order' from any member of the family. _I_ never had one given to me until today, and I want to know why. Why would Master Bruce make a point of speaking to me that way?"

It wouldn't do for him to see that his words had made me angry, so I pulled him close once more and held him tightly. "The poor boy's been through so much lately and I'm sure that he never gave a thought to what he said," I murmured, closing my eyes and turning my head, to kiss his neck, as I spoke to him. "I'm certain that he didn't mean to sound the way that he did, Alfred, I'm sure that he never meant to be so callous. As a matter of fact, I'm willing to wager that he would be ashamed of himself if he knew that he'd upset you this way….."

He drew away from me suddenly and raised his hand, maybe to swipe it across his eyes, though I couldn't say for certain that he had. "Look at the way that I'm carrying-on, while there's work to be done," he said softly, bending his head, to kiss the tip of my nose. "You know, I used to be the strong, silent, 'happy to suffer in silence' type, but lately I'm more likely than not to turn into a namby-pamby watering pot. I guess it's all these things that you make me feel, innit, love?"

I knew that he'd changed the subject on purpose, to stray me away from the notion of bringing Master Bruce's behavior to his attention. There was a part of me that wanted to draw him back onto the path that we'd been on, but it wasn't the dominant part of me, so I ignored it.

"Are you insinuating that I've turned you into a 'namby-pamby watering pot', Alfred Pennyworth?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him, and then allowing them to grow wide as my gaze moved down, and lingered, on the uprising that was taking place beneath his apron. "I suppose that means that I'll just have to keep my hands…and my mouth…along with all of the soft, warm places on my body to myself from now on, won't I?"

His ninety-third smile replaced the anger and sadness that had been haunting his gaze, and then it was overtaken by something that could only be described as being impish in nature…delightfully and thrillingly so.

"And how in blazes is that supposed to curb my tendency to behave like a 'namby-pamby watering pot', eh, love?" he asked, sliding his hands, very slowly, down my legs, bending at the knee so he could reach beneath my skirt. "If anything, that'll just make it worse, what with the constant arousal and frustration. I'll _really_ have a reason to complain then, won't I? I won't just be a crybaby, I'll be a snappish toerag as well, one who goes around at all hours of the day with a throbbing cockstand, whinging and moaning because I've got a killer case of the blue balls…now, we don't want that, do we, Evie darling?"

His palm was sliding up my leg, his fingertips tickling me behind my knee, and to say that I was ready, willing and able to allow him to continue was an understatement…but now was not the time. It wasn't easy to reach down and stop the progress of his hand, not when I wanted, more than anything, for him to slide it between my legs and drive me to distraction with his fingers, but I had to do it now, while I still had the willpower to do so.

"Later, my love," I whispered, easing the sting of my rejection with a kiss, one that was long and lusty, just the way he liked them to be. "I need to take that tray to Master Bruce….."

"Bollocks!" he growled, "I forgot all about the tray….."

"…..and you need to have a look at the lights in the alcove off of the front door, because they've taken to blinking on and off again," I finished, kissing him a second time, followed closely by a third, kisses that weren't anything like the first one had been, but would suffice to tide him over until I had time to do more.

He smiled at me again, locking his eyes onto mine as his hand ran down my back and landed, with a resounding _smack,_ on my backside. "Aye-aye, you tasty little minx," he said softly, gruffly, and his gaze brightened considerably when he saw the spark that undoubtedly lit my eyes as my bottom started to sting. "I'll do that right away…and later on, if you're a very good girl, I'll kiss that sore spot on your bum."

* * *

><p>Master Bruce was still ensconced in his files when I entered the study with his breakfast tray, so much so that he barely acknowledged my greeting, let alone bothered to answer it. At any other time I might have been willing to overlook his lack of manners, but I was not so willing to disregard it at that moment.<p>

I placed the tray on the table beside his files and stood still, waiting for him to take notice of the fact that I was still in the room with him, while my eyes took in the mess around me. This was the one room that the new cleaning staff never entered. Alfred and I took turns keeping it tidy; to ensure that Master Bruce wouldn't be disturbed by a stranger, but one would never know that we even bothered, given the state of the place. It was no wonder that Alfred had reacted the way that he had. This reflected badly on us, it made us look as though we couldn't care less about doing our job properly, and even worse was the realization that the boy was becoming more and more obsessed with his "detective work" with every day that passed.

"That'll be all, Vangie," Bruce said suddenly, bringing my attention back to him with a start, followed closely by a flare of my temper. "I don't need anything else right now."

I tried to smile at him, in spite of the fact that his tone had been offensively dismissive in nature, but I couldn't quite pull it off. Bruce had always been a nice boy, a kind and sweet-natured child, but he'd lost that part of himself when his parents had died. I suppose that I ought to have been willing to overlook his behavior…but I'd already done so, more than once, and Alfred had as well.

"I think that you do need something else, Master Bruce," I countered, drawing his eyes to mine with the seriousness of my tone and holding them steady, even as he tried to move them away. "I think that you need to remember your manners, I think that you need to recall the way that you were raised to behave, because it makes me sad to see you act this way. I suppose that I may be overstepping my bounds a bit, but I promised your mother that I would raise you in the way that she wanted, and she would be very angry with me if I were to neglect my duties, wouldn't she?"

His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath, and then he ducked his head. "I suppose she would," he whispered, picking at the knee of his pants, the way he always did when he was feeling self-conscious.

"I know that Alfred and I are not your father and mother, but we are doing the best that we can to care for you the way that they would have wanted, because we _do_ care about you, Master Bruce. Nothing in this world matters more to either of us than you do, and while we may not be family, and though we are your employees, we deserve a little respect. There is nothing that is more telling of a man's character than how he treats those around him, be they his equal, whether socially or financially, or not, and it is the sure sign of a gentleman to regard _everyone_ as his equal…and to never, _ever_ make them feel insignificant or beneath him. Alfred and I serve this household, we serve _you_, Master Bruce, so it is appropriate, I suppose, for you to treat us as servants, though we'd prefer that you didn't. That being said, it is never, _ever_ proper for you to treat us like slaves…and that is what you're doing when you give us an 'order'."

I did not raise my voice, or use an overly sharp tone, but I didn't have to. My words had hit home, they'd made my point very nicely, so much so that I only had to wait for half a second, at the most, for him to leap up off of the couch and throw himself into my arms. It wasn't easy for me to chastise him, I was a bit of a sucker for sad eyes and trembling lips, but this time it had been necessary, and it would seem that it had worked just as I'd hoped it would.

"I'm sorry, Vangie," he whispered, snuggling closer to me when I stroked his hair. "Does Alfred hate me now?"

I smiled and kissed the top of his head. "He could never hate you, Master Bruce," I murmured. "You hurt his feelings, but it's nothing that an apology wouldn't fix…after you've had your breakfast, of course."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Evangeline's POV

"You look beautiful, love," Alfred whispered, surreptitiously sliding his arm around my waist and giving me a quick squeeze…that is, giving my _backside_ a quick squeeze, right in plain sight of God and anyone else who might like to take a look. "And I know that I shouldn't touch you, because I might be tempted to wrinkle and muss you as thoroughly as I possibly can if I let myself get started, but it's hard for me to be a good boy when you make it so easy for me to be naughty."

Bruce may as well have been stricken both blind and deaf for all of the attention that he was giving us, but I blushed as furiously as if he'd turned to see Alfred goosing me. Where had the man that I'd known the past fifteen years gone? The Mr. Pennyworth from my past would have never, ever…not ever…placed his hand anywhere near anyone's derriere in public. I couldn't even say with any sort of certainty that he'd done that sort of thing in private, but I _could_ say that he wouldn't have dared to do such a thing in full view of anyone who might care to look. Needless to say, his actions shocked me, they scandalized me…and they shook me to the core of my being and made me weak in the knees and quivery between my thighs.

"There will be plenty of time for that once we're back home…_alone_…_in private_…with no fear of being the center of attention for anyone beyond the two of us," I replied, biting back a yelp that would have been born from both surprise and guilty pleasure when he gave me a quick smack on my bottom before he forced himself to behave like a "good boy". "Lord knows why I'd let you 'wrinkle and muss' me to your heart's content when you're so determined to have me blushing all day long, but I think that we both know that I'd do so in a heartbeat, don't we, Alfred dear?"

He gave me a smile, his ninety-fifth, which packed quite a punch, because it wasn't just mischievous in nature, as I'd expected it to be. This one was impish, but it was also boyishly charming and thoroughly seductive, one that lit his eyes and brightened his whole face. I fell in love with him just a little more in that moment, which was odd, because I would have been willing to swear that I was already as far-gone as I could go where those feelings were concerned.

"Haven't I already told you how pretty you look when you're all caught up in a blush, Evie darling?" he murmured, giving the back of Master Bruce's head a quick glance, to ensure that the boy remained completely oblivious of the flirting taking place behind him, before he moved his head and gave my earlobe a quick nip. "It's a lovely sight to behold, breathtaking, in fact, and though I know that I ought to be able to resist the urge to bring it out of you in full sight of those who might try to take you away from me, I just can't help myself, sweetheart. You make me forget myself, you make me unmindful of the fact that there's anyone else in the world, save for you and me…well, you and me and Master Bruce….."

It was a good thing, for both of us, that we'd almost reached the hostess stand, because that meant that Alfred would be forced to pay attention to the task at hand and keep _his_ hands to himself in the process…wait a minute…how was that a good thing? Okay, maybe it wasn't a good thing, not completely, but there _parts_ of it that would help me to remember where I was and why I was there. I needed to concentrate all of my attention on presenting myself in a proper, ladylike fashion, and the only way that I was going to be able to do that was if Alfred…and his hands…were otherwise occupied.

"You are a shameless flirt, Alfred Pennyworth," I whispered, rubbing my hands against my cheeks in a vain effort to wipe away the crimson hue that was staining my skin. "I never realized what a tease you were, but now I know that you're doing this deliberately, because you know that there's no way that I could respond the way that I want to. I have a feeling that you're fully aware of the fact that there are more people present beyond our happy little family, otherwise you wouldn't be tempting me this way, would you? You'd be too busy worrying that I might take you up on your offer, and then what would you do, hmm?"

I knew in an instant that my words had been a mistake, because it was plain as day that he'd taken them as a challenge. Why, oh why couldn't I simply allow him to win? It wasn't as if I didn't know that he would be the victor whenever we were involved in a dance of seduction, it wasn't as if I was unaware of the fact that he would beat me, hands down, nine times out of ten in that arena. I suppose that it was my need to be stubborn that kept me from giving up…or maybe I just had a masochistic streak that I'd never known existed until I'd had my first taste of him.

"Oh, my darling girl, that wasn't meaningless teasing, it wasn't even an empty threat. That right there was a promise, love, and I intend to do everything in my power to make sure that you take me up on my offer once we're truly alone. I would never force you to do anything that you didn't want to do; I'd just as soon cut my own throat than to do that, but my ability to conduct myself as a proper gentleman _does_ have its limits."

I wasn't sure how to respond to what he'd said; there weren't any specific words that came to my mind. That wasn't to say that there weren't _any_ thoughts that came to my mind, because there were a lot of them, the problem was that they all came to me in a jumble. There were times when I'd found the ability to be brave in the past, but most times I felt the way that I did at the moment, unsure of myself and at a loss for words, while my body positively _throbbed_ with arousal.

Fortunately, we had reached the hostess podium, an act which saved me from having to say anything. Unfortunately, at least for me, it was manned by two women who looked perfect in every way, which automatically made me feel like an unattractive lump of nothing special at all. I was willing to wager that neither of them had ever felt disgustingly fat. I also found it hard, no, make that impossible, to believe that they ever did anything awkward, and it was more likely than not, that if they ever had to do something as crass as belching or farting, it sounded like quiet cathedral bells and smelled like freshly cut roses when they did.

"Name?" they asked, simultaneously, of course, in perfectly dulcet tones that I ought to have expected, given the circumstances. It was a good thing that they had directed their query at Alfred, given that any response that I would have given would have sounded positively troll-like in comparison, though it irked me, just the teensiest bit, to know that they were content to pretend that I didn't exist.

"This young man is Bruce Wayne," Alfred replied, seemingly unconcerned, nor bothered by the idea that he was expected to remain faceless and nameless for the day. I suppose that I could have pointed out that he _wasn't_ faceless or nameless to the pair of pretty perfections, but I knew that I'd only come off as a jealous lump of nothing special if I did so. "He's Bruce Wayne, ladies, and thank you."

The duo smiled, once more in unison, which was a little creepy, and gestured toward the ballroom, as if we wouldn't be able to find the way on our own. I suppose that I was acting a little snarky, and I knew that I ought to mind my manners, but thankfully everything was inside my head, and would therefore require no apology. I was rather proud of myself, for keeping my opinions and reactions to myself, out of the sound and sight of those around me…or so I thought, though I should have known better.

Bruce led the way into the ballroom, with Alfred and me walking side by side behind him, with every show of confidence, until he took in the room that was filled with people who were all strangers to him, and then he faltered. I wasn't sure what I ought to do, given that I was experiencing the same reaction myself, but Alfred didn't hesitate. He moved to stand beside the boy and glanced around the room, completely at ease in those surroundings, just as he was in all surroundings.

"That lady there is Miss Mathis," he said, bending to speak quietly to Bruce, then nodding across the room, to a woman who was sitting by herself, seemingly in need of a dining partner. "If memory serves, she worked closely with your father on a number of projects."

That was all of the encouragement that Bruce needed to approach the lady, and it made my heart swell and tremble in my chest to see the smile that brightened Alfred's face as he watched the boy move across the room. He watched him with the expression that a proud father would wear, and I couldn't help but imagine him gazing down at a little one cradled tightly in his arms the same way. It was a dangerous path for my mind to take, one that would surely end in disappointment, but there was nothing that could be done to stop me from taking it. I'd always been a sucker for romance, for marriage and babies, and the need still lived within me, in spite of the fact that in another time I would have been considered an "old maid".

"Now then, Evie love, would you care to explain yourself to me, or would you prefer me to draw my own conclusions?"

I started a bit and immediately blushed. "What are you talking about?" I asked, struggling to swallow as the image in my mind, the one of him cradling our baby, bent its head and pressed a kiss to the little one's forehead. "What is there to be explained?"

The smile on his face changed once more, taking on the appearance of one that was meant to indulge what its bearer knew to be lies, which, needless to say, annoyed me a little. "Alright, darling, I'll play along," he murmured, casting a look in Bruce's direction, to ensure that the boy didn't need him, before he turned his attention back to me. "Would you be kind enough to explain to me what it is, or who it is, that is making you feel so ill-at-ease? You're beautiful, my dear one, stunningly so, and though I'm certain that these fine folks have deduced that you, like me, are 'the help', they have no reason to disdain you for who you are. Your dress in lovely, not to mention tasteful, your manners are impeccable, and you've been a perfect lady in every way…aside from the poisonous glances that you were aiming at the hostesses…so why in the world are you behaving like you expect to be cast out at any moment?"

I felt the flush on my face growing warmer with every moment that passed. I turned my gaze to the floor and twined my fingers together, nervously twisting them about while I fought the urge to dance from one foot to the other. It spoke volumes for Alfred's compassionate nature that he didn't chastise me for behaving the way that I was, because I was on the verge of making a spectacle of myself and that sort of conduct was unbecoming to a woman in my position. He didn't say another word, he simply waited for me to respond, and after a few minutes passed in silence, I was able to do so.

"I've never had to attend one of these charity events," I replied, smiling to myself when I lost the desire to dance about like someone who needed to pee. "I was the one who helped ready Mrs. Wayne for an appearance, so it's a little odd, to say the very least, to find myself in her shoes." I took a deep breath and slowly untwined my fingers, then lowered my hands to my sides, where they belonged. "I just feel out of place, I know that I'll never fit in, even though I have to try." I slowly raised my head, and met his eyes with my own. "How am I supposed to be perfect in every way, when everyone can tell that I'm not?"

His gaze grew darker for just a minute, turning his eyes almost cobalt in hue, but thankfully it only lingered for an instant. "You're doing a fine job, love, and Mrs. Wayne would be very proud of you for making an appearance, in spite of the fact that you feel like a fish out water amongst her peers. She would also tell you that it doesn't matter that you don't 'fit in' with this sort. She'd say that she wouldn't be nearly as fond of you if you _did_ 'fit in' with them. She'd remind you that there's no one who's perfect in every way to those who look at them, not until you find that one person who sees all of your imperfections and loves you _because_ of them, not in spite of them."

I took a deep breath, one that was quavery in nature and made me shudder as it escaped me, and started to attempt to explain how he made me feel, but then the voice, and the picture on the screen at the front of the room changed. The feed had been a classy infomercial of sorts, an ad for all of the good that had been done by Wayne Enterprises. Now it was showing a seemingly live feed show, one that consisted of a single man who had the crazy sort of eyes that made you feel like something unpleasant had just squiggled up and down your spine.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman!" he said loudly, adding another creepy effect to the uneasiness caused by his eyes, as if he needed a little help in freaking us out, which he didn't. "I'm sorry to interrupt your meal, but I have something to say, a much needed PSA, you might say, one that I'd like to make on behalf of each and every living creature."

"C'mon, love," Alfred said quietly, taking on the businesslike, no-nonsense tone that he used when he wanted everyone's undivided attention.

We moved across the room, to stand beside the table where Master Bruce was sitting with Miss Mathis, and warily kept our gazes on the loony who was holding the crowd spellbound with his darting gaze and booming voice.

"I'm going to assume that you've heard of a drug called Viper. It's been all over the news lately, the biggest headline out there, but what you don't know is who made it and distributed it. Well, wonder no more, because Viper is me, and I am Viper. I developed the formula and brought it to life on behalf of Wellzyn, who, in case you're interested, is an affiliate of none other than Wayne Enterprises…who you're supporting…so I suppose that one could say that you have yourself to thank for this new drug sensation!"

Everyone in Gotham City was familiar with Viper, you'd have to live under a rock to not be aware of it, but it was news, the most disturbing type possible, to know that Wayne Enterprises could possibly be tied to its existence.

"Is that true?" Bruce asked incredulously, turning his attention to Miss Mathis.

"Of course not, Bruce," she replied, meeting his eyes for just a moment, before she turned her attention back to the man who was still making his case against his drug, against Wellzyn, and against Wayne Enterprises. "It's obvious that this man is delusional, that he's insane!"

"I hoped that if I distributed my drug to the people who live on the street, and allowed you to see its effects, you might see the true face of what you're supporting, but apparently I gave you too much credit. Apparently bad things don't happen to bums and prostitutes, apparently a thing is only bad when it involves important people…people who are just like all of you!"

The man's face disappeared from the screen, leaving it blank and I slowly became aware of a hissing sound right beneath the growing whispers of the crowd. I placed my hand on Alfred's arm, squeezing it for reassurance, and followed his eyes upward, to one of the air ducts. I watched with growing horror as a green colored gas began to spill into the room, and started to reach for Bruce, only to be stopped by Alfred before I could take hold of the boy.

"Hold this over your mouth, love," he ordered, shoving a cloth napkin into my hands, then pulling off his jacket, to place it over Bruce's head, as one of the detectives from the funeral, the rude, unkempt one, came into the room and ordered everyone out. "Take one deep breath, sweetheart, and then no more until we're outside."

I started to argue, to ask him what he meant to do for himself, but he cut me off before I could say a single word. "Don't worry about me, Evie. Just do as I say and don't argue with me and everything will be just fine…you have my word on that."

Alfred's POV

I couldn't believe how relaxed and at ease I was at that moment. I would have expected to be on edge and filled with anger after the day that we'd had, and so I might have been, but all of that had changed when we'd arrived home. We'd all changed clothes and I'd made my way to the study, knowing that I'd find Master Bruce inside, poring over his files. I wanted to go to Evie, to ensure that she was alright, but she'd disappeared into her room without a word, and I'd known that she'd needed some time to herself. Besides which, I'd had a revelation of sorts, one that I needed to acknowledge, and I knew that this was the perfect time for me to do so.

I'd been so caught up in feeling angry about those damned boxes and files, I'd been so centered on my resentment of the bloody things, and because of that I'd failed to see that the young master was right to pay them the attention that he did. I couldn't remain that way any longer, not after seeing, with my own two eyes, that there was a great deal beneath the service that could stand to be investigated. I'd never denied that there were shady deals being done at Wayne Enterprises, not by the Waynes themselves, but by those who worked with and for them, but it would seem that I'd underestimated the problem.

That was why I made my way into the study, with the air of a man who belonged there, and took a seat on the sofa opposite of Master Bruce. I spread some files out on the coffee table and opened them, and then I began to read what I'd been doing my best to ignore, only to be interrupted by the sound of a stifled laugh. I raised my eyes and glanced across the coffee table to find the boy watching me with a smile and raised eyebrows. He held my gaze for a couple of moments, before he returned his attention to his work, and I smiled, just a little, when I realized that he'd just welcomed me into his domain.

We read and worked in silence for several minutes, and then I became aware of the fact that he was looking at me, when he ought to have been concentrating on his files. I slowly raised my eyes once more and was taken aback by the expression on his face, one that was filled with contrition and accompanied by a trembling chin.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," he said softly, "it was wrong of me to speak to you the way that I did yesterday. Do you think that you could find it in your heart to forgive me?"

Damn and blast, my own chin was starting to wobble, and that wouldn't do at all, would it? "There's no need for you to worry about that, Master Bruce," I replied, pleased by the steadiness of my tone. "I already forgave you for that…but I appreciate the apology just the same."

* * *

><p>Master Bruce was fast asleep in the study, surrounded by his files and covered by a heavy afghan that his mother had liked to wrap herself in while she watched the telly. We'd worked all through the evening, taking a short break to enjoy the dinner that Evie brought us on trays, and now it was time for me to find my girl and make sure that she was alright…but she was nowhere to be found.<p>

She wasn't in my bedroom, where she ought to be, but she wasn't in hers either. The kitchen was empty, left clean, with everything in its place, but no sign of the woman who'd made it so. I made my way up and down each and every bloody corridor, opening one door after another, until I was half a second away from losing my temper, and then I happened to glance out the window, toward the hedgerow, and spotted the small light of a single taper.

I headed outside, muttering to myself about her trying to freeze her pretty little bum off, and struggled against the urge to allow myself to truly get angry. It was obvious that the events of the day were still plaguing my Evie, and she'd sought the comfort of the outdoors to soothe herself. I suppose that she might have needed me more than I'd realized, though it was likely that she'd need the blanket that I'd brought along even more…especially since it turned out that she'd wandered outdoors wearing nothing but a thin, sleeveless nightie that ended at her knees.

"Blimey," I whispered, taking a deep breath and struggling to swallow as she turned toward me and afforded me a glimpse of her hardened nipples pressing against the sheer cotton of her gown. She was holding the candlestick in one trembling hand, and though the light was dim, it proved sufficient in showing me her big, beautiful eyes, her trembling lips…along with the nipples I mentioned before, and the shadowy vale that rested between her thighs, showing itself plain as day, because she wasn't wearing any knickers. "Oh, God…there go all of my good intentions, love."

She crossed the space between us and took the blanket out of my hands, then bent at the waist to place it on the ground, followed closely by the candlestick, but only after she'd extinguished the taper. The moon was out, bathing the hedgerow in its light, so I could still see her well enough, so much so that I was breathing hard and undergoing one hell of an uprising down below as I stared at the curve of her bum as she bent over.

"I could have lost you today," she murmured, going into my arms as soon as she straightened and pressing her lips against my throat. "So I can't say that I care about your good intentions or your determination to be a gentleman, my dear. You made a promise to me today, if you'll recall, of what you would do once we were alone, and I am determined that you will keep your word…unless all of that sweet-talk _was_ just 'meaningless teasing' and 'empty threats' after all….."

P.S. There are probably some of you who are cursing me to the depths of Hell at this moment, but I had to end it there, because what I have in mind requires an entire chapter, and Alfred and Evie deserve that consideration, don't they?


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Alfred's POV

My words had been a promise, not meaningless teasing, not empty threats, and I would follow through with them…but only after she verified a couple of things for me. I had reached the point of no return, there was only one more step for me to take and I would move past it, but I would only do so if I knew, without a doubt, that I would be doing so with no worry of regrets. I had regarded sex very casually when I was a younger man. I'd enjoyed all of the rewards without any thought of the consequences of my actions, and in doing so I had hurt others. I didn't want to take that sort of chance with Evie, nor did I want my past mistakes to haunt me, even if I didn't deserve the sort of happiness that she gave me. I wanted to know what it was like to love her in that way, but only if I was certain that I was loved by her in every other way.

"You didn't lose me today, Evie," I murmured, smoothing back her hair, so that the strands fell down her back, rather than over her shoulders. "I didn't lose you and neither of us lost Master Bruce. We're all here, safe and sound, and there's no reason to believe that anything will change that anytime soon."

"But I could have…_we_ could have….."

"You didn't, I didn't, _we_ didn't," I repeated, soothing her by cradling the back of her head with my palm when she buried her face against my chest. "I know that events like those we survived today act as an aphrodisiac of sorts, but I don't want that to be the reason that this happens between us, Evie. It would be wrong for us to make love because of fear, or because I have a tendency to flirt a little more aggressively than I ought to when we're out together in public…aw, hell…this isn't coming out the way that I want it to….."

She raised her head and smiled at me as my voice trailed away, then rose onto her tiptoes to press her lips against mine. I always marveled at the softness of her mouth, in its warmth and how full her lips were, but most of all I was amazed by the fact that I was the one she wanted to kiss. I'd never really given much thought to snogging when I was younger, it was just the step that came before shagging, but all of that had changed after I'd kissed my Evie the first time. There were so many emotions to be found in that embrace, there was trust and hope as well, and it had finally dawned on me that I'd never experienced that with anyone else because I'd never truly been in love with anyone but Evangeline Ripley.

"I didn't lose you, and I didn't lose Master Bruce, and I am grateful for that fact," she murmured, running her hand down my neck, then off my shoulder, trailing it along the length of my spine, ever onward, until she reached, and squeezed, my bum. "But it isn't fear that has me turning to you Alfred. It's not your tendency to aggressively seduce me, both in _and_ out of the house that has made up my mind that the place is here and the time is now either. I've been here, waiting for you, because I love you…because I'm _in_ love with you. I've wanted you for fifteen years, I've _needed_ you for fifteen years, and I'm bound and determined to have you right here, and right now…as long as that's what you want as well….."

I probably shouldn't have grabbed hold of her so tightly, and I probably shouldn't have kissed her so deeply either, but how in hell was I supposed to stop myself from doing so, after she'd just said that she loved me? The truth of the matter was that I couldn't quite hold her as tightly as I would have liked to, in spite of the fact that I was probably putting tremendous pressure on her ribs as it was. I couldn't get close enough to her; I couldn't keep my hands from running up and down her back, then down to her bum, to pull her in a steady rhythm against the swelling in my trousers. I practically bent her backward as my mouth took hold of hers, kissing her like this was the last time, and pouring every last bit of what I felt for her into that one lip lock.

There was no doubt in my mind that I was behaving like a sex fiend, like a man who couldn't control his lustful impulses, but thankfully Evie didn't seem to mind. As a matter of fact, she met me full force, she gave it back just as good as she got it, and damned if she didn't shock the hell out of me by shimmying her way up my body, as if I had turned into a tree. She was driving me out of my mind, with all of the whimpering, and the way she said my name, all husky and breathy, when that soft bit of sweetness that rested between her thighs brushed against my cockstand, but I wasn't likely to complain anytime soon.

"Sweet baby," I growled, pulling my mouth free of hers, to take her earlobe into my mouth, suckling, then biting, then suckling it again, until she arched herself against me. "_My_ baby…my Evie…I love you so much."

I don't know how in hell I managed to spread the blanket out on the grass with her arms wrapped around my neck and her legs wrapped around my waist, but somehow, someway, I got it done. She made for quite a beguiling sight as I laid her down, with her tousled hair and eyes that bid me to do things to her that were downright sinful in nature. The straps on her gown had slipped down off of her shoulders, and as a result the upper swells of her breasts were bared. The light wasn't good enough to show me whether or not her nipples were pushing against the lace that covered them, now that her gown had slipped down, but I imagined that they were. I could feel them against my fingertips, I could imagine how they'd feel against my tongue…I could taste them…I _would_ taste them…..

"I'm feeling a little lonely down here, Alfred darling," she said, running her hands down her arms, to take off one strap of her gown at a time, moving slowly, so that her breasts weren't exposed in the process. "I think that you're a little overdressed for the party…now please take off your clothes for me, my love."

Hmm…there was nothing that made my blood race more than to hear that flirtatious lilt in her tone. Thank God that the moon was showing its full face overhead. Thank God that it was unseasonably warm outside tonight. Granted, I would have preferred to have a roomful of lights blazing for our first time, I would have liked a room that was climate controlled, so she wouldn't catch cold, but there was no way that I was going to ruin this moment by carrying her to the house.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, shrugging out of my coat and vest easily enough, though my tie and the buttons on my shirt seemed determined to defeat me. I tossed all of these on the ground, followed closely by my undershirt, my shoes and socks, and then my trousers. I suppose that I ought to have skinned off my pants as well, but it seemed to me that she and I were on an equal playing field just as we were. "Is this better, Evie love?"

She rose up onto her elbows, an action that made her gown slip even lower. Had it been lighter outside, I would have been able to see her nipples as plain as day, but it was dark, and I only caught a glimpse of them. I liked to think that they grew harder as she looked at me, starting with the top of my head and moving to my feet, then back up again. I was fairly certain that I saw her pause when she laid her eyes on the tented front of my pants; it seemed that she stared at that spot for a good, long while, and when her eyes met mine again I saw that she was smiling.

"There's no way to make things 'better' with you, sweetheart, not when everything is just as it ought to be," she murmured, reaching out her hand to me, "now come down here and kiss me, please."

This was not the time for me to be getting a swelled head, but the idea that she saw me as an ideal man, just as I was, made me a tad bit conceited. Thankfully, I was wise enough to keep that reaction to myself, and I did as she asked me to without saying a single word that would get me in trouble. I lowered myself down onto the blanket, employing the half on, half off technique that I used whenever we got snuggly with one another, and pressed my lips to hers.

Evangeline's POV

My God, he was beautiful. There were some who would say that he was too masculine for that descriptive, but who was to say that it was one that belonged solely to females? I personally believed that a man, even one who as masculine as my Alfred, could be called beautiful, because that was what he was. There was beauty to be found in rugged virility, in a seductively husky voice, in a man's eyes and in the touch of his hands. I saw that whenever I looked at him, I saw each and every trait, all in this one man, and I was so lucky because he was mine, _all_ mine…but there was no need to tell him all of that and run the risk of stroking his conceit, was there?

It had been a good, long while since a man had kissed me, Alfred had been the first man to do so in seventeen years, but now I knew that he was the only one who'd ever truly kissed me the way a woman wanted to be kissed. I was fairly certain that he hadn't done this sort of thing for some time either, but the dearth of experience hadn't affected his skills. He kissed like a man who was unaware of the fact that he could curl a woman's toes with the skillfulness of his mouth. He didn't hold anything back from each and every embrace; he poured everything that he was feeling into his kisses, and, right on cue, my toes curled as he parted my lips with his tongue.

He moved his hand, placing it on my stomach and rubbing it 'round and 'round, until he'd warmed the skin beneath the thin cotton material of my gown. I'd just grown accustomed to the feel of his calloused flesh, I was content and relaxed, and then he slowly slid his hand upward, to take hold of the neckline of my gown and pull it down, baring my breasts to his eyes, as well as his fingertips. I arched my body off of the blanket with the first teasing touch, then whimpered as he took one of my nipples between his thumb and his forefinger and teased it, and plucked it, then caressed it with the flat of his thumb.

"Alfred," I moaned, unconsciously rolling my hips as his mouth moved to my throat and covered it with kisses. "Alfred…please, baby….."

"Is this what you want, darling?" he murmured, moving down on the blanket, so he could lick my unoccupied nipple, one silken stroke of his tongue, then another, before he drew my flesh into his mouth and suckled it. "Or would you prefer _this_ instead?"

He moved his fingertips off of my nipple, replacing them with his mouth, so he could trace the bit with the tip of his tongue, encircling it again and again, and then gently nipping it with his teeth, before he licked the tiny sting away. That was enough to make me writhe on the blankets, to move about and whimper his name over and over again, but then he upped the ante by sliding his hand down my body, rubbing its way over my tummy, then beneath my gown, which was twisted around my waist.

My breath caught in my throat as his fingers moved ever closer to the spot between my legs that was throbbing for him. He'd always touched me through my panties in times past, and he hadn't had any problem bringing me to climax that way, but I'd always wanted to feel him against me with nothing between us. I'd always wondered what it would feel like, that warm, calloused flesh brushing against my most sensitive spot, and now I was experiencing it, in a way that made my eyes roll back in my head.

"Ah, Evie, love," he murmured, gently nipping the inner curve of my breast. "You feel like you've got silk in there, darling."

He teased me a bit first, sliding his fingertips along me, but not delving inside, to stroke that bit of me that was straining to find him. He raised his head and watched me closely, locking his eyes on my face as he tormented me, gliding his fingertip up and down, up and down, but never within, not until I was gasping his name. That was when he smiled at me and slipped inside, to find that magic button with no trouble at all, and make me come apart at the seams with one tiny touch.

It was fortunate that we were so far away from the house; because there was no way that I would have been able to stifle the scream that escaped me as I flew to pieces. This wasn't the first time that he'd made me come, but all of the other instances kind of paled in comparison to what I was feeling at that moment. I felt the detonation of that orgasm moving all throughout my body, centering itself between my thighs and racing outward, to pulsate from head-to-toe, and I wasn't shy about voicing my pleasure, so much so that I was sure that Alfred's ears had to have been ringing, but he didn't seem to mind.

He continued to stroke me, soft caresses, as I writhed and bucked beneath his hand, and I could see, in his eyes, that he would have been content to take things slowly, to plunge me off of one pinnacle after another, until I was completely mindless with pleasure, but I wanted him too badly to wait any longer. His eyes grew wide as I slid my hand inside his briefs, almost comically so, and he almost protested as I took off that final bit that separated his bare flesh from mine, but then I took him in hand, so to speak, and any objections that he might have made died away as he growled my name.

"Bloody hell," he groaned as my hand encircled his flesh, "ah, Evie…please, love….."

He didn't say anything else, it was almost as if his mind went blank as I stroked him, as if it couldn't contemplate anything beyond the feel of my hand wrapped around his impressive girth, and then he moaned, deep down in his throat, as I moved my palm up and down. I stroked him, root to tip, over and over again, and smoothed the pad of my thumb over the crown of his cock, until _he_ was the one who was surging his hips and growling _my_ name.

"No more!" he demanded, moving to place himself between my legs. "It feels so damned good, love, but I'll disgrace myself if you don't stop."

I smiled at him and placed my hands on his shoulders, then smoothed them down his back. I promised myself, then and there, that I _would_ please him that way someday. I vowed that I would make him come with my hand, and maybe, if he was a good boy, with my mouth as well, but not this time. This time I wanted something else wrapped around him when he came, and I had to have him there right now. I needed him so much that it was beginning to hurt, the throbbing deep inside of me had grown to an extent that I could barely think of anything else, and I bit down on my lip, hard, and gasped his name when I felt him pressed against me down below.

"I have to feel you this first time, Evie," he whispered, slowly moving forward, the tiniest bit, and growling deep in his throat as I started to envelope him. "I know that I should stop, that I should get that condom out of my wallet…that's what I _should_ do, but I don't want to…unless you want me to….."

It would be the responsible thing to do, and I'd always done what was sensible, just as he had, but I didn't want any barriers between us this first time either. I had waited a long time for this moment, I had dreamed of it for years, and I was going to feel every last inch of him, and only him.

"Don't you dare," I panted, my breath catching on a moan as he held himself still, waiting for my answer. "I've got everything that I need, everything that I want, right here, baby….."

He settled his gaze firmly on mine as he slid forward, his breath leaving him in a hiss through teeth that were tightly clenched as I encircled him completely. It had been a long time since I'd been in this position, and as such I felt a bit like a virgin, but there was no way that I was going to let him know that he was hurting me. The pain wasn't bad, and I knew that it would fade altogether once he started to move, but I might have known that he would see the truth in my eyes, in spite of my best efforts to hide it.

"Oh, love, I'm sorry," he whispered, bending his head, to kiss me on each cheek. "I never meant to hurt you….."

I slid my hand into his hair and brought his lips 'round to mine, quieting him with a kiss. I knew that actions would speak louder than words in this situation, so I slowly lifted my legs and twined them around his waist, biting back a moan when he settled more firmly within me. It wasn't pain that made me groan, it was the look that came over his face, one that was born of pure bliss, and was accompanied by a smile, his one hundredth, that made my heart turn over in my chest. I tightened the hold that I had on him with my legs, resting one of my calves on the back of his knee, while my opposite thigh cradled his backside, and then I tentatively raised myself, and gasped at the burst of pleasure that coursed through me with that simple caress.

Alfred's POV

Blimey…I wasn't going to last long this time. If I had known that this was going to happen tonight, I would have had made certain to begin the day with a wank, followed by another after supper, but I hadn't known, had I? Granted, I'd hoped every day that I might be willing to give in to my desires, but thus far I'd proven myself to be a paragon of virtue…alright, that was a load of cack…but I had kept my cock to myself, up until this moment, and now all of my efforts would be for naught, because I felt like a randy boy who was having his first taste of silken honeypot.

Silken she was, and wonderfully warm and wet as well. I'd forgotten what it felt like, to be embraced in this way…but then, I never had been, had I? I'd always been careful to slip on a rubber before I'd taken my pleasure in the past, even my first time, so this was the only time when I'd felt what I was enjoying. It was appropriate, wasn't it? After all, I'd never truly loved any of those from my past, so in a way I felt kind of like an untried lad again…and judging by the look that was in her eyes, I was willing to bet that she felt a little virginal as well.

It took every last bit of willpower that I possessed, to resist the urge to move in that thrilling ebb and tide that would feel so damned amazing as I climbed the heights, but I held myself still none the less. I loved this woman, she was my all and my everything, and I was going to see that she was treated right, no matter if it killed me to do so.

I told her that I was sorry; I told her that I'd never meant to hurt her. I was certain that she would want me to stop, and I promised myself that I would be able to do just that, no matter what my pecker had to say on the topic, but then she kissed me into silence and wrapped those short, but shapely, legs around me and pulled me further into her grasp down below.

She tightened around me as she did so, a sweet embrace that made me smile like a dolt, and slowly moved her hips against mine, taking that first step and establishing the rhythm between us. I could hear pleasure taking the place of pain in her voice, and her eyes grew heavy with desire once more, then widened as a gasp escaped her, when I returned the favor.

"I love you, Evie darling," I murmured, closing my eyes and praying for self-control as I advanced, then retreated, once and then twice, into her soft embrace. "Ever since that first moment, when your eyes met…oh, God…met mine and you smiled at me….."

This was the perfect moment to woo her with sweet talk, to heighten the pleasure for both of us, but each silken stroke made it more and more difficult for me to think, let alone speak. Thankfully she didn't seem to expect conversation. She moved beneath me, not silently, but with whimpers and gasps, ones that grew louder and more frequent as I quickened my pace. I was getting close, I could feel my release growing ever nearer, and there was a part of me that was concerned, because I thought that I might come before she did, but thankfully I didn't need to worry.

"Alfred!" she cried, moving on me, faster and faster, and sinking her nails into my shoulders. "Please, baby, please…I love you so much….!"

I frantically reached beneath her and took one cheek of her sweetly rounded bum in my hand, using my hold to tilt her, to raise her against me in a new way, and that was all the invitation that she needed to tumble over the edge. I might have been scared by the way that she screamed, had I not known her as well as I did, but I _did_ know her, and that was why I knew that her cry was one of pure pleasure, without even a hint of pain.

"Oh, God!" she screamed, squeezing me tight with her arms, her legs, and that bit of softness down below that was rhythmically embracing me with each pulse of her orgasm. "Oh, God…Alfred…oh, sweet _God_….!"

Blasphemy had never sounded sweeter to my ears than it did at that moment, and Evie had never looked more beautiful as she did right then, immersed in the throes of her release. Her eyes were closed, and tears seeped out from beneath her tightly clenched lids, coursing down her cheeks and making them shine in the moonlight. I had a moment to admire her, to take in the sight of her as she was, as I had made her, and then my own moment drew near and I took her face in my hands.

"Open your eyes, baby," I half asked, half ordered, "open them and look at me, Evie love."

She did as I asked her, and stared right into my eyes as I came apart at the seams, a release that was so strong, so intense, that I damn near went blind as it surged through me. I had to turn loose of her, so I could grab hold of the blanket on each side of her head, to ensure that I wouldn't hurt her with the force of my grip, and the sounds of my pleasure filled the air as I frantically moved between her thighs. There were some who would say that it was a woman's place to make those sorts of noises when she came, but I reckoned that they were the sort who'd never actually made a woman come. As it was, I felt no shame as I cried out her name, as I shouted God's, along with a vulgarity or two, and in the end I was rewarded, because her cries joined, and mingled, with mine as another orgasm took hold of her.

For several moments afterward I laid on top of her, struggling to catch my breath, until it dawned on me that I might have been crushing her. Somehow, I managed to find the strength to settle my weight on my palms…but I couldn't leave her, so I lowered my head and kissed her instead, losing myself in the soft warmth of her mouth, and marveling, for the umpteenth time, that she was really and truly mine.

A/N: Many thanks to Lola93091 for the suggestion that Alfred and Evie might enjoy a romantic interlude in the garden…which I then accelerated to a full-blown session of bow-chicka-wow-wow.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Alfred's POV

It had become a nightly occurrence, ever since I'd had my epiphany following the charity luncheon, for me and Master Bruce to spend at least part of the evening together, working on his wall full of clues. I suppose that I ought to clarify a bit a say that most nights I sat and watched him work on his wall full of clues, kind of like a useless lump on a log, but I didn't dare complain. I had an inkling that all that it would take was one word that he didn't like to revoke my admission to the study, and I wasn't willing to take that risk.

I don't suppose that it occurred to him that I had a life outside of this room, did it? I don't guess that I was the sort of fellow that he'd look at as a man who had a woman who loved him, and liked to make love with him. I was fairly certain that the lad knew the tale about the birds and the bees, at least I hoped he did, but what boy his age would look at a geezer like me and think to himself, "Yeah, I bet he enjoys nights of unbridled passion with his ladylove."?

That was assuming that Master Bruce, or any lad his age, for that matter, knew anything about unbridled passion. I was willing to wager, based on my own experiences at that age, that they knew why their peckers got hard, and they knew that eyeballing a nice set of bubbies was a surefire way to get a rod-on, but what did they know about honest to goodness passion? What the hell did they know about being so damned hot for a woman that there were times you couldn't be in the same room with her, if there was someone else around, for the fear that you might not be able to control yourself, even though there were witnesses about?

Ah, brilliant…now I had a bloody cockstand. I suppose that I ought to be thankful for the fact that Master Bruce was paying me no attention whatsoever, given the embarrassing circumstance that I suddenly found myself in, but I couldn't help wondering why he even wanted me around. Was it because he liked the sound of another person breathing in the room, a filler, of sorts, for the emptiness? If that was the case, why did he have the telly turned on…and why in hell did he have it tuned to that damned _news_ program that was akin to rubbernecking at the scene of an accident?

"Good evening," the host purred, using a voice that sounded like she was indulging in a little dirty talk on the phone with her lover, as opposed to giving a bloody news report. "I'm Lacey White, and you're tuned in to the Gotham Seven Goat Watch. The elite one percent of Gotham is on pins and needles tonight, waiting for their date with a copycat killer, and if you are one of those lucky few, you're probably watching this as you have your servant pack your bags for that long overdue trip to the Swiss Alps…am I right, hmm?"

God, she really was a repellant cow, wasn't she? It wasn't difficult to imagine that there were plenty of people in Gotham who detested the "elite one percent", but when had it become an accepted practice to laugh at the possibility of death and destruction befalling your fellow human being, simply because you didn't like them? Did they not realize that some of the proposed victims of this nutter were children like Master Bruce…or was the idea of his death okay with them, simply because he had been born into a prosperous family?

"That Goat has them all running like rabbits, doesn't he, Alfred?"

His voice startled me, truthfully, the fact that he'd remembered that I was still in the room with him had done so, but thankfully I didn't jump or do anything else that would have given me away.

"That he does, Master Bruce," I replied, raising my head and attempting to smile at him, then wincing, to myself, when I felt the effort fall short of its goal.

"I can't understand his choice of a hooved mammal for his totem, but I must say that he's been very effective at holding the city in a state of terror."

I knew that it wasn't fascination that I heard in his voice, but his tone bothered me just the same, because it was clear that he'd detached himself from the fact that he could be at risk. He didn't seem to realize that his own name might be on the list that this _Goat_ had compiled. He gave every appearance of one who saw a situation that had been tailor-made for someone like him, yet, for some reason, it did not apply to him.

"Has it occurred to you that you are one of those who has every reason to be 'running like a rabbit', Master Bruce?" I asked, steeling myself when I saw the look that came into his eyes as he absorbed my words and sat back in his father's chair, folding his arms and clasping his hands in front of him. "It can't have escaped your attention that you're one of those firstborn of Gotham's elite, can it?"

"I know who I am, Alfred."

"Well, then…I was thinking that maybe we ought to leave town for a while, 'til all of this dies down," I continued, marveling at the fact that I was practically having to beg this boy to allow me to save his life. "We could go to the lake house for a bit, couldn't we? I know that you like it there. You always liked it there, didn't you, Master Bruce?"

I should not have had to plead with the young master to see reason on this. He was an intelligent boy; he was not even remotely dimwitted, so why in the world must he be persuaded to take the steps to ensure that he was out of harm's way? The will to live was supposed to be one that each and every human being was born with, an innate characteristic meant to warn us of danger, so why on earth was Master Bruce so determined to ignore the warning bells that had to have been ringing in his head?

"I'm going to stay right here, Alfred," Bruce replied, scooting his chair back from his father's desk and turning to pin another clue to the wall. "There's work that needs to be done, and besides which, why should I be worried about the Goat? There's no one to take me from, no one who would suffer from that loss, so why would he waste his time with me?"

Ouch…that hurt a little bit. Alright, to be honest, it hurt a whole hell of a lot. Was that what he truly believed? Did he really think that Evie and I didn't give a toss about him? Couldn't he see that we loved him, that we viewed him as our own? Was it because we hadn't allowed ourselves to weep at his parents' funeral? Did he believe that we hadn't loved them as family because we'd controlled our emotions for his sake? I didn't know what was going through his mind, let alone his heart, but how could he be so thoughtless when it came to those who loved him so much?

"Well, then, I'll leave you to your work, Master Bruce," I said, marveling at the fact that I was able to keep my voice steady, not to mention my legs, as I rose to my feet. "Good night."

It took him a moment to answer, but I heard him reply in kind before the door shut behind me. I stood still, leaning against the door, for several moments, listening to the dulled chatter of the television, and took one deep breath after another as I struggled to gain control of myself. My first impulse was to seek out my Evie, to take refuge in her arms and comfort in her warmth, but I knew that I wasn't fit company at that moment. She was in the kitchen, cleaning up and prepping what would be needed for breakfast, so I made my way to my bedchamber instead…and found her inside, almost as if she was waiting for me to arrive.

She was standing at the foot of my bed, between the ornate carvings that decorated each side, with her hair hanging down her back. She must have made a stop to her own bedroom, because she was wearing a black camisole and short set that I'd never seen before, and that erection that I'd obtained in the study, which had subsided, roared back to life. My gaze was centered on hers, to begin with, but after a few moments it moved, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, which were curled into the carpet, and the need inside me damn near flamed out of control.

"Evie….," I began, and then choked on my words, as I curled my hands into fists at my sides, and lowered my eyes to stare at the floor. "I'm not…I can't…I don't….."

I tripped over my words and felt like a blooming idiot, so much so that I felt my temper spark to life, and that made for one hell of a gamut of emotions. I'd heard it said at one time that men had the emotional depth of a teaspoon, and I suppose that some of them did, but I was not one of them. I was feeling a lot at that moment, emotions that tussled with one another and made me feel torn up inside, and as usual my Evie knew just what I needed, even if I was too proud to ask for it...for _her_.

She crossed the room in a trice and took me into her arms. "You dear man," she began, which was her way when she knew that I was tottering on the edge of breaking down completely. "I've brought you a plateful of brownies, a quart of milk, as well as myself, so what do you say that you let me pamper you a bit and make you feel much better, okay?"

I could have told her that I didn't need the brownies or the milk, I could have told her that she was all that I needed, all that I wanted, but who was I to deny her need to pamper and spoil me? Chocolate and dairy weren't conducive to me when I was in a state…but she would prove very helpful…and she liked brownies and milk. I suppose that there were those who would say that wounds weren't healed by the comfort that could only be given by the woman that a man loved, but I knew better…and I needed her…and to hell with those who couldn't understand that.

"And who'll pamper you, my love?" I murmured, my words turning to a croak when she knelt at my feet to untie my shoes. "Who's going to make you feel better?"

She raised her face to look at me and smiled seductively. "Well, _you_, of course," she replied, slowly running her hands up my legs, stopping just short of the spot where I wanted to feel her touch the most. "You can baby me while I pamper you and though I wouldn't say that I need you to make me feel better, I _do_ need you to make me feel good, and there's no denying that you can do that…is there, sweetheart?"

* * *

><p>At any other time I would have been willing to believe that the fellow who called himself Crispus Allen and insisted that he was a detective with Gotham's MCU deserved to be given the benefit of the doubt, but this was <em>not<em> one of those times. It was difficult, damned near impossible, as a matter of fact, to believe that a person's motives were trustworthy when they were found sneaking about outside of a private residence that wasn't their own. It was especially intolerable if they did so when the ladylove of a certain temperamental butler was walking past a window and saw the aforementioned person outside and damn near suffered a heart attack when she spotted them.

Her shriek of alarm had nearly stopped _my_ heart when I'd heard it, so, needless to say, I was in a bit of a bad mood as I hastened Mr. Allen along to the spot where he insisted James Gordon was waiting with his partner. That was why I held onto the collar of his coat a mite bit tighter than I ought to. That was why I encouraged him to step lively by settling my foot in his backside when he tried to dawdle. That was why I hissed all sorts of threats in his ear, moments before I slammed him against the side of the car, which was waiting right where he'd said it would be.

"James Gordon!" I hissed, pulling back, and then slamming the big fellow that I was manhandling against the car once more. "Is that you in there?"

I saw Gordon's eyes, widened in alarm, staring back at me as he hurried to lower the window. "It's okay, Alfred, he's a friend of mine," he said, rushing to assure me before I slammed his mate into the car a third time. "We couldn't afford the risk of taking a more direct approach, because there're people all over, looking for me, but I give you my word that he can be trusted."

I was willing to wager that ol' Crispus was reconsidering the importance of keeping their approach as indirect and without risk as they had, given that he was the one with a bruised and battered body, but he was polite enough to keep those opinions to himself. He simply straightened his coat when I released him instead and willingly accepted my hand when I offered it to him.

"Sorry about roughing you up, Detective," I said, grasping his hand in a good, firm handshake. "Things have gotten a bit barmy lately, and a man can't be too careful, can he?"

Detective Allen didn't answer me. More likely than not, _I_ was the one that he thought was a wee bit barmy, but I couldn't blame him for thinking that way, could I? Besides which, I was too busy studying the look that was on Jim Gordon's face, the one that said that he'd somehow managed to land himself in the thick of it again, and needed my help for something. I couldn't say that I cared for that expression, it tended to lead to things that were a pain in my bollocks, but I wasn't about to turn him away, was I?

"You look like hell," I told him, aiming for a carefree tone in order to lift his spirits and failing miserably. "I reckon you've got yourself in a spot of bother again, haven't you, sir?"

* * *

><p>I found that Evie had rousted Master Bruce while I was having a stroll with Detective Allen, and she was waiting with the boy, standing in front of him, ready to attack, until she saw that I was leading our happy little party. I don't know who in hell she was going to deter, in that midnight blue silk nightie with a matching robe, because that was the sort of getup that drew a man, rather than discouraging him, but I wasn't liable to complain about her choice of garb anytime soon…not unless one of the blokes gave her the eye, and then I might have something to say.<p>

As it was, I kept my mouth shut, and she did as well as she moved to stand behind Master Bruce. I took my place at her side, and waited for Detective Gordon to explain everything to the boy. There were parts of the story that only he could tell, and I would imagine that there was a good deal that he'd need to censor as well, so it was best that I let him do all of the talking himself, and keep my nose out of it.

"Bruce, this is Renee Montoya," he began, gesturing to the lady standing behind him, "and Crispus Allen," he added, indicating the gentleman who'd briefly found himself on the wrong side of my temper.

"I'm pleased to meet you both," Bruce replied, in a perfectly polite tone, as if we were at a party, rather than standing in the study, with him in his pajamas. Both detectives nodded in reply, but neither of them said anything. It would seem that they'd reached the same conclusion that I had, to allow Gordon to do all of the talking, which showed a good deal of intelligence and common sense on their part.

Gordon took a deep breath, and then winced, as if he might have been in pain. I'd gathered enough info to determine that he was injured, but not enough to know how or why he'd been hurt. I had a good mind to ask him for every last detail, but I knew that this wasn't the time, and it definitely wasn't the place, so, once more, I kept my mouth shut.

"Bruce, I gave you my word that I would find the person who is responsible for the murder of your parents, but I'm not sure that I'm going to be able to follow through with that," he began, glancing briefly at the floor, before he returned his gaze to the boy's face. "A lot of things have happened, very bad things, and I've gotten into trouble with some people, I've stirred up a hornet's nest, you might say and….."

"I'm not a child!" Bruce shouted, interrupting the detective mid-spiel and earning himself a not-so-subtle squeeze from Evie for his outburst. "You needn't hide the truth from me, and as such I would prefer you to explain what you mean…please."

"You _are_ a child," Gordon pointed out, "and you don't need to hear every last detail….."

"You believe that you are going to die!" Bruce shouted. His second outburst earned him yet another squeeze from Evie, followed by a look that said that he was pushing his luck. "I would like to know why, Detective. Is it because of what happened to my parents? Is it somehow connected to what happened that night?"

Gordon took a deep breath and met my eyes, then Evie's, before he returned his attention to the young master. "Everything is connected," he affirmed, clearly expecting either Evie or I, or both of us, perhaps, to censor him, and when he saw that we had no intention of doing so, he felt free to proceed. "Bruce…I will do everything in my power to keep the promise that I made to you, but if I…can't...Montoya and Allen will take my place. I've told them all that I know about what has happened, and I believe that you can trust them one hundred percent."

Montoya and Allen both nodded their agreement to what Gordon had said, and I hoped, rather than believed, that they were telling the truth. "Bruce, these are good detectives, and I fully believe that if anyone can find the truth…if I _can't_ find the truth…they are the ones who can, and will, do so."

The young master took his time looking both of the strangers over, sizing them up, you might say, and then he nodded. "Thank you," he said, "I appreciate anything and everything that you are willing to do on my behalf."

The detectives nodded again, and they might have had something to say at that point, but I noticed that Gordon was looking a little peaky, and I distracted everyone in the room by speaking to him.

"And what might we do to help you, sir?"

James tried to smile reassuringly, undoubtedly to assuage Bruce's fears, but his effort fell short. "Thank you, Alfred, but there's nothing that can be done for me. It's essential that I take the next steps on my own. I couldn't live with myself if anyone was to get hurt on my behalf. That's why I need to get out of here as soon as possible….."

Evie's eyes met mine for a moment, and the message was loud and clear that she wanted me to intervene. In days past I might have been jealous, I might have read motives into her request that didn't really exist, but thankfully I'd moved past that point…for the most part.

"But you can hardly walk," I said, interrupting him, even though the look in his eyes told me that it was useless for me to argue with him.

"Don't worry about me, Alfred," he said, offering another of those half-assed smiles. "I'll make it just fine."

He offered his hand to Bruce, a gentlemanlike gesture, meant to convey that he was attempting to view the young master as a man, rather than a child. I expected Bruce to take his hand, to shake it, as was customary, so imagine my surprise when the lad launched himself into the arms of the detective instead, hugging him tightly, as if he was afraid that he would lose him. It was a reaction that touched me…but it made me a little envious as well, and I couldn't help but be grateful to Evie for sensing my feelings and twining my fingers with hers, in the folds of her robe, where they wouldn't be noticed.

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone, and remember that reviews are love…not to mention the fact that they'd make a wonderful present for me, in lieu of Sean Pertwee, who'll never be mine. And if you'd like to double my pleasure, please allow me a moment of shameless self-promotion by directing you to my newest fic, entitled _There's A Bad Moon on the Rise_, which also stars my beloved Mr. Pertwee.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Evangeline's POV

It was wonderful, thrillingly so, to awaken in the arms of the man you loved. I couldn't speak for anyone other than myself, but speaking for myself, I _could_ say that there was no better feeling than the sensation of strong, warm and thoroughly masculine arms holding you tightly…unless it was strong, calloused and thoroughly talented fingers finding and caressing the most sensitive parts of your body.

"Good morning, love," he whispered, pressing a kiss to my nape while his hand shimmied up from my tummy, to tease my nipple with his fingertips, before it moved downward to slide between my thighs. "What are my chances for having a little taste of you before we begin our day, hmm?"

His calloused fingertip easily found, and stroked my clitoris, drawing a muffled cry from me as I bit down on my pillow to keep the sound as quiet as I could. I arched my back as he fondled me, an action that pushed my backside against the source of his desire, and somehow, someway, I was able to smile through my moans and groans, when I heard him growl my name in response.

"It'll have to be a quick taste," I gasped, as his strokes grew more insistent in nature. "I need to find a new tutor for Master Bruce, in addition to overseeing the cleaning staff while they're working, so, needless to say, I've got a full day ahead of me."

He opened his mouth and gently sank his teeth into my nape, pushing me ever closer, until I was practically teetering on the edge of an orgasm. "Well, there's no need for you to worry about finding another tutor, love," he whispered, working my clitoris with one hand, while his other hand grabbed hold of my hip and moved me backward, so he could slowly envelope himself in my warmth.

We'd dismissed the tutor that Bruce was familiar with once we found out that he was attempting the sell stories about the Wayne family to the press, and that left the young master without an instructor, so why would Alfred say that I needn't find another one? Oh, God…it was difficult to think in moments like these, when I was a couple of strokes away from coming apart at the seams. Thankfully for me, Alfred continued to explain things to me, using that soft, husky tone that always made me all shivery and quivery between my thighs…though what was fortunate for me turned out to be very _un_ fortunate for him.

"I made arrangements for Master Bruce to return to school," he murmured, moving me ever closer with a stroke that was both soft and rough. "Today is his first day….."

My eyes, which had been half-closed in near ecstasy, popped open as my hand moved down, between my legs, to hinder his questing fingertip. "You did _what_?" I asked, hoping, rather than believing, that I'd misheard his words. "Today is his first _what_?

It never occurred to me that I could move as quickly as I did at that moment, but it seemed to me that I was out of his grasp, and out of the bed, before I had a chance to blink. It ought to have felt awkward, or, at the very least, odd, to be facing him down stark naked, but I was too angry to be self-conscious. As a matter of fact, I could say, with no exaggeration at all, that I hadn't been as enraged as I was at that moment since the days that had followed the Waynes being murdered.

"Now, Evie," Alfred said softly, in a placating tone which did nothing whatsoever to calm me, though it definitely worked wonders at further inciting my wrath. "Baby….."

"Oh, don't you 'Baby' me!" I shouted, stamping my foot on the floor as I spoke, with no concern whatsoever for how childish my behavior was. "Your _sweet-talk_ isn't going to help you out of this!"

He lay still for just a moment, watching me almost warily, and then jumped out of bed and pulled on his underwear, followed closely by his trousers, wincing, just a bit, as he pulled up his zipper over flesh that was still futilely hoping for some sexual action.

"And just what in hell are you doing now!?" I bellowed, thinking to myself that it was a dirty, underhanded move on his part to do his damnedest to distract me at a time like the present. I could hear the shrillness of my voice, and I told myself to calm down, I said it over and over again, but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get a grasp on my temper.

"Well, love, there are conversations that you like to have when you're in the buff, the sort that either precede or follow lovemaking, but this isn't one of them. Granted, I was pretty sure that we were just about to make love, before I opened my mouth and thoroughly pissed you off, but given that things have changed, very drastically, I'd like to cover myself before we continue."

That made sense to me, so much so that I was tempted to cover myself as well…but why should I make things any easier on him? It was obvious that I was placing him in quite a quandary as to where he ought to rest his eyes as he spoke to me, and he hadn't lost that bulge in his trousers either. If anything, it had actually grown more prominent in nature, and I found that it distracted me, just a little, from the task at hand…and that made me even angrier. His penis was covered, which meant that I ought to have been out of danger where being diverted was concerned, yet here I was, totally engrossed by the tenting in his pants…the one that was covered by his trousers…the one that shouldn't have made my mouth water, given that I was completely enraged at its owner.

"Were you planning on discussing this cockamamie plan with me at all, or were you simply going to drop him off and tell me all about it when we sat down to lunch?" I asked, pulling my eyes away from the…um…_swollen_ parts of his anatomy with no small degree of difficulty. "Damn it, Alfred! We're supposed to be a team, we're supposed to be partners, yet you were doing everything in your power to keep it a secret from me. It pisses me off, to know that you would lie to me, and it infuriates me to know that the only reason I learned the truth was because the majority of your blood was in your cock, as opposed to your brain….!"

"That's quite enough of that, Evangeline," he said softly, dangerously, as the muscle in his jaw begin to _tic_ out a beat. "I know that you're angry with me, and I suppose that I've given you plenty of reason to feel the way that you do, but I'm not going to stand idly by while you behave the way that you are right now."

Dear God. I almost laughed after he said that. Somehow, I'd managed to bite it back, which was fortunate for me, but I couldn't believe that it had been a genuine concern in the first place. I wasn't trying to say that I knew everything, as a matter of fact, I was fairly clueless about a good many things, yet I just couldn't shake the feeling that people weren't supposed to make snorting sounds as they did everything in their power to keep a laugh inside while they were angry.

"And how is it that I'm behaving, Alfred?" I asked, moving across the room to retrieve my robe after all, but only because I knew that the jiggling bits of my body would distract him, though not nearly as much as the sight of me bending over to pick up said robe off of the floor would.

"The Evie that I used to know didn't throw around the sorts of words that you've been using," he said, struggling to swallow as he moved his eyes up my body to collide with my gaze. "And she wouldn't lose her temper over something that is simply part of a normal child's life….."

"I am a grown woman, and that means that I'll use whatever words please me at that particular moment," I responded, in a tone that perfectly conveyed my hostility, in spite of the fact that I was whispering. "And Bruce's life is normal enough as it is. What makes you think that he'd even want to go to this school? Have you even bothered to discuss this with him, or did he wake up to the fact that _you_ made this decision without him…without _me_."

"Master Bruce needs to be around children his own age," he argued, firmly sticking to his guns, even though he had to have known that he was in the wrong for doing this on the sly. "We need to do everything in our power to give him the sort of life that will help him to enter the place that his parents left for him….."

"Are you really going to ignore me?" I asked, closing the sash of my robe with a swift, almost violent tug. "Are you really going to sidestep the topics that you don't like and bring me back 'round to my responsibilities, the obligations that _you_ think are important instead? Damn it, Alfred! We are his guardians, _we_ are, not just you. I should have been consulted, I should have been given the opportunity to voice my opinion….!"

"You're overreacting to this, love…um…Evie," he said, correcting himself when I shot a look in his direction that had to have been downright poisonous in nature. "This is the best course for Master Bruce to take….."

"Why don't you just say what you mean, Alfred," I interjected, unwilling and unable to allow him to continue. I knew that my behavior had to be shocking to him, after all, he'd never seen me in a state like the one that I was in at that moment, but then he'd never given me a good reason to do so before. "You did this to remind me of my place, didn't you? _You're_ the one in charge, right? _You're_ the one who has the final say and you don't need, nor do you want, my opinion."

"Evie, please..," he said, reaching for me as I moved toward the door. "Don't go, not like this….."

I couldn't help but respond to his voice. It didn't matter that I was angry with him, that tone grabbed hold of me by my heart just the same, but I couldn't stop. There were tears in my eyes, in a matter of moments they would be on my cheeks, and I'd be damned before I'd let him see me cry.

Alfred's POV

It wasn't easy to keep the calm and collected façade that was expected of a proper butler when I was reeling inside. How was it possible to go from one extreme to the next in a split-second? How could I have known her for fifteen years and never see that side of her? Granted, I'd witnessed her temper before, or, rather, I thought I had, but I'd never seen her the way that she'd been that moment. The rage had been difficult enough to bear, but it had been paltry, to say the very least, in comparison to her disappointment…and the sight and sound of her tears as she'd rushed out of my room.

I hadn't only angered her…I'd broken her heart as well, and that knowledge was tearing my guts out. I'd driven Master Bruce to school in silence, spending the majority of the journey in the frame of mind that I'd been in since Evie had run from me, thoroughly ensconced in the belief that I was right, until I heard Master Bruce whisper six words to himself.

"Vangie wouldn't make me do this," he'd murmured, and a glance in the mirror told me that he hadn't aimed his comment at me. Granted, he'd spoken the words aloud, but not for my benefit. He'd simply been stating the truth out loud, and everything that Evie had said had come flooding back to me. Her tears had broken my heart, but not for the right reasons. It was understandable that it would be painful to see her cry, given how much I loved her, but I should have been hurting because I knew that _I_ had done that to her. _I_ had overstepped my bounds. _I_ had taken away the choice that was hers by right. _I_ had put her in her place…though I swear, by all that was holy, that I hadn't done so on purpose.

Ah, well. There was nothing to be done about that now, was there? The decision had been made, and I had a job to do. It was that sense of duty that gave me the motivation to get out of the car and make my way 'round to the young master's door. I opened it and stood off to the side, waiting patiently for him to depart, but it was obvious that he had no intention of leaving the safety of the backseat anytime soon.

"You're going to be late," I told him, aiming for a tone that was both encouraging and commanding, and failing miserably in my endeavor. "Come now, Master Bruce, you knew that you'd have to return to your schooling sooner or later, didn't you?"

I was fairly certain that it hadn't bothered him at all when we'd severed the contract with his tutor, to be perfectly honest, he'd almost seemed relieved, but surely he'd realized that alternative measures would be taken…hadn't he?

"Do I really have to do this, Alfred?" he asked softly, eyeing the school building over my shoulder. "Why couldn't I learn at home instead? It's just as effectual, to study from home, I could show you all of the statistics, if you'd like me to….."

"You need to socialize with children your age," I told him, ignoring the whisper that I heard in my head, _Vangie wouldn't make me do this_, though it wasn't easy for me to do so.

"Why do I need to do that?"

"You just do, alright?"

Bruce took a deep breath and though it had to have been nearly impossible to do so, somehow he managed to resist the urge to roll his eyes at me. "I really hate it when someone answers a question in that way. You know that, don't you, Alfred?"

"You must miss seeing all of your mates," I replied, ignoring his query and taking another tack, with the undoubtedly futile hope that I might convince him to see things from my point of view.

My prospects for success plummeted when I saw the look that came over his face, one that was a combination of both pity, for the fact that I was pathetically dimwitted, I suppose, and utter disgust.

"Why would I miss them?" he asked, taking on an expression of befuddlement to join with the other two looks that he was already wearing. "I've never really liked them all that much. They've always been a little too…well… immature….."

"Well, isn't that how they're supposed to be?" I asked, marveling at the fact that a boy his age would be put-off by the juvenile behavior of his contemporaries, when he ought to have appreciated that sort of conduct. "That's the way that boys your age behave, innit? Don't you want to be more like them, Master Bruce? Don't you ever wish that you were a normal kid?

"I don't know," he replied, "describe what makes a kid 'normal' and give me at least three examples of….."

"You're going to go to bloody school, Master Bruce," I told him, cutting him off before he made me lose my temper. "Now get out of that car and march up those stairs…please."

He gave me a look that would have seen me dead and buried, had he been given the ability to kill with a single glance, and I fully expected him to argue with me, but he didn't. He chose to do exactly as I'd bid instead, and as such I ought to have been filled with a sense of victory as I watched him make his way into the school, but I wasn't. I felt a momentary twinge of dread instead, and whispered my wish that his luck would be good…though something told me that it wouldn't.

Evangeline's POV

I'd spent the entire time that he was gone crying my eyes out…well, I spent two-thirds of it bawling like a baby, while the other third was devoted to me cursing myself for acting like a twit. Wasn't it bad enough that I'd carried on like a harridan, throwing a hissy fit, like a bratty child, all while doing my damnedest to keep Alfred in a constant state of arousal? Dear God…I'd made a fool of myself, and now I'd gone and made it all worse by boohooing like my world had just come to an end.

That didn't mean that I was the only one in the wrong. Oh, no…he was definitely to blame for going behind my back, for making an important decision regarding Bruce's life without consulting me first, but I never should have acted the way that I had. I should have sat down, like a calm, collected and _rational_ human being and explained myself to him. Instead, I had railed at him and hurt him with words that I couldn't take back. What was worse was the fact that I hadn't wished Master Bruce good luck on his first day when I'd told him goodbye…and I hadn't even said goodbye to Alfred, or told him that I loved him…..

"Knock it off, will you?" I muttered, massaging a thin layer of polish into the massive wooden island in the kitchen. "If you keep this up, you'll start sniveling again, and that's the last thing that you need, isn't it?"

"It's probably the last thing that _I_ need," Alfred replied, appearing, seemingly out of nowhere, and making me jump in the air with a thoroughly embarrassing squeak of surprise. "I don't think that I could bear that again. I will withstand it if I have to, because I'm not leaving this room until I've had my say…until I've had a chance to make things right."

I slowly wiped my hands against my apron, and then I untied it and hung it on the peg that rested on the wall beside the island. It wasn't easy for me to turn around and face him, but I forced myself to do so…and found myself in his arms before I could say a word. I hadn't heard him enter the kitchen, and I hadn't heard him cross the floor, so, needless to say it came as a surprise to find myself in his arms…a wonderful shock, one that made me weak in the knees, as he wrapped his arms around me and drew me close to his chest.

"I know that I can't heal this wound with a hug, but I hope that I can help to ease the pain somewhat," he murmured, running one hand up and down my back, while the other one rested on my waist. "I never knew that a hug could help so much, I never realized how something so simple could make everything better, but it can, and I'm hoping that it will right now."

"Alfred, I'm sorry….," I began, only to be shushed by him before I could say another word.

"No, love," he whispered, turning his head to kiss me on my cheek. "You were right and I was wrong, and nothing else matters right now. I need to tell you something else, instead. I need for you to understand how much I appreciate holding you in my arms. For fifteen years I kept my distance from you. I allowed myself to touch you once a year, when we would dance, but I couldn't do so at any other time. I wasn't strong enough to hold my feelings at bay, and I feared that I might be encouraged to allow the dam to break, if I simply felt your hand in mine. I could not have borne it, if you'd recoiled from my touch. I couldn't have tolerated it, if you'd told me that all that I felt was one-sided…but now I know differently, don't I? Now I know that you love me, and I can touch you whenever I feel like doing so…and the thought that I might have ruined that, by doing something that was profoundly stupid, is more than I can stand."

I wanted to cry. It was all that I could do, to keep my tears at bay, but I did so anyway, because I couldn't bear to cause him anymore pain than I already had. I'd never known that he'd felt the same way that I had for all of those years. I'd never realized that we'd both been so blind. I tightened my hold on him and reached up, to press my lips against his cheek, before I nuzzled my nose against his neck, to take in his smell and savor it.

"You dear man," I whispered, "_my_ dear man." I felt my bottom lip wobble a bit when I heard him take a deep, shuddering breath. "You could never ruin what we have. You could never do or say anything that would stop me from being yours, because I've been yours ever since I met you. I won't always agree with you, and there will be times when I get mad and shout and cry…but that won't make me love you any less."

"Evie, love..," he whispered, "Your place is beside me, not behind me. I never set out to make you feel that way and it tears me up to know that I made you feel that way. I just wanted to make things as normal for Bruce as I can…I want him to have friends….."

"That's understandable, sweetheart," I told him, filling the void after his voice trailed away. "But he doesn't need _those_ kind of friends. I've known some of those children since they were toddlers and they are a bunch of little monsters…callous, hateful brats…and it would be best for Master Bruce to stay as far away from them as he can."

Alfred's POV

Master Bruce was running late, and it wasn't like him to be tardy. He'd always been a punctual lad, but the dismissal bell had sounded several moments before and he was nowhere to be seen. I was feeling much better than I had that morning, I would even go so far as to say that I had a bit of a bounce in my step, but that good feeling was swiftly fading as I pulled out my father's watch and checked the time.

I still wasn't sold on the notion that sending Bruce to school was a mistake. I didn't think that Evie was overreacting, I reckoned that she was simply overprotective of the boy, but the fact that I'd just felt that twinge of dread again made me wonder if perhaps I'd been mistaken in my beliefs. What if something had happened to the lad….?

"Get a grip," I muttered, closing my watch and patting it against my palm before I put it away. "He's probably caught sight of a pretty young lady and lost track of the time….."

As if on cue, the doors to the school burst open, and Bruce came trotting down the stairs. "You're running a little late, aren't you, Master Bruce..?" I began, before I saw that his clothes were mussed, and that he was doing everything in his power to make it past me without saying a word. "Oi! What is this, lad? What happened to you?"

"Don't worry, Alfred," he muttered, "there's nothing wrong with me."

"Yeah, and I'm a monkey's uncle," I snapped. "Now why don't you tell me the truth, eh?"

His eyes darted left, then right, before they locked on to mine once more. "There was a boy who seemed to enjoy teasing me and he…well…he said something about my mother that I found to be disrespectful in nature."

I thought of Mrs. Wayne and remembered what a kind woman she'd been, what a loving wife and mother she'd been, and my temper instantly sparked to life. "Oh, did they now?" I said, positively fuming. "Well, I hope you broke their bastard teeth for them."

I suppose that I oughtn't to have used the language that I had, but Master Bruce didn't seem to be offended. "No, I didn't," he said, blushing and glancing at the ground. "He's much larger than I am and I don't have any experience fighting. I slapped him, but I didn't hurt him…not at all."

A good smack to the face ought to have hurt the little wanker's pride, even if it didn't damage anything else. "You didn't hurt him all?" I clarified, reaching out to place my hand on his shoulder, but he jerked away before I could touch him, shoving past me, to run to the car.

"Please don't tell the school what happened," he said, as he sprinted past me.

I looked at the big, imposing building, and knew that Evie had been right. It was nothing more than a posh social club for a bunch of toffee-nosed brats. "Yeah, that's not bloody likely, is it?" I muttered, thinking of Evie, of the tenuous bond that we'd forged, which was liable to be broken again once she got a good look at Bruce's tattered clothes and bruises. "Blimey…she'll be wearing my knackers for earrings after this, won't she?"

A/N: I always change the dialogue when I'm writing, because I'm not fond of plagiarism, but I kept Alfred's words about the "bastard" and his teeth just as they were, because there was no way that I could improve on that line.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Alfred's POV

I'd had my first genuine fight when I was ten years old, and even though a good amount of time had passed by since then, I could recall the details as if it had been yesterday. I'd been staying at Wayne Manor, visiting my parents for the summer, the same as I did every year, and I'd been allowed to attend a soiree that old Mr. Wayne had hosted for his young son, Thomas. It had been a proud moment for my father and mother, to have me included on the list of guests, for while it was common for "the help" to attend the annual Christmas ball, it was unheard of for them to be included in any other parties.

I'd been cautioned by my parents to be on my best behavior, and I'd given them my word that I would be a perfect gentleman, but the vow had been given grudgingly, and was undoubtedly made null and void by the nature that I kept hidden away. I'd been ten years old at the time and Thomas Wayne had just turned four. I couldn't think of a single boy of ten who'd be thrilled by the prospect of attending a party comprised of mostly little kids and their parents, and then there'd been the suit that my mother had made me wear.

I don't know where she'd managed to find a baby blue seersucker suit for a lad of ten, that sort of humiliation was usually restricted to babies and toddlers, but that was what she'd laid out for me to wear that day. Knowing my mother as I did, she'd probably made the damned thing with her own two hands, but that hadn't stopped me from hating it on sight, had it? I'd gotten the feeling that my father had agreed with my opinion that it was "the ugliest suit in existence", but all that it had taken was one tiny tremble of my mother's lip to have him forcing me into the scratchy thing.

I don't know where my parents' brains had been that day. Surely they'd realized what would happen when the son of the butler and the housekeeper attended a party for those who led a charmed existence in a bloody seersucker suit, hadn't they? Perhaps they'd been too blinded by the kindness that had been bestowed upon their only son, or perhaps they believed that everyone in attendance would be kind to me, given that the Waynes were so considerate and generous. Whatever they'd believed, things had gone very badly instead. I'd made a complete spectacle of myself, there had been about one hundred witnesses to my behavior, and that ugly suit had been beyond repair after everything was said and done.

It wasn't the teasing that I'd taken over my suit that had made me lash out. I had never possessed skin that was so thin that a little bollocking was going to tear me to shreds. It wasn't the fact that the children who'd been at the party, save for young Master Thomas, had made certain that I didn't forget that I was the son of the butler and the housekeeper. The thing that had been the last straw for me was the way that Mrs. Reed had been treated, and to this day, I didn't regret a single thing that I'd done to protect her honor.

Mrs. Reed was the cook at Wayne Manor from three years before I'd been born until I was twenty, and she'd always been a second mum to me, which was appropriate, given that she was, and still is, my mother's nearest and dearest friend. She was one of those ladies who could filet you with the edge of your tongue if you did something that displeased her, yet she would also bandage your knee when you skinned it and make everything right in the world again with a plate of her freshly baked gingerbread. Needless to say, she had meant the world to me, still did, and all that it had taken was one look at her face when she'd overheard the comments that some toffee-nosed teenaged brats had made about her to send me into fighting mode.

It was true that Mrs. Reed had possessed a very corpulent figure, as a matter of fact she still did, but that hadn't given the trio of privileged toerags who'd been tittering amongst themselves like a covey of pigeons the right to make fun of her for it. It would have been bad enough, to hear their comments about her all on my own, but the fact that she'd overheard them, and had started to cry into her apron, once she was out of their sight, where they wouldn't see her, had been enough to make me see red.

It had been a swell of anger that had propelled me through that crowd, loosening my tie with a quick and vicious jerk of my hand, and rolling up my sleeves in anticipation of the coming battle. I hadn't given a damn about the fact that everyone was gathering 'round to sing "Happy Birthday" to young Thomas, I hadn't noticed my father taking note of what had caught my attention, nor had I seen that he was rushing toward me, determined to stop me before I could make a complete spectacle of myself. All that I'd noticed, all that I'd cared about was the trio of prats who'd desperately needed a lesson in manners, and I'd happily doled it out to them, one right after another, until all three of them had been piled in a battered and bloodied heap on the ground…..

I brought my thoughts back to the here and now as I reached the destination that I'd set for myself. I was a tad bit nervous to encourage Master Bruce to take this step. I had a bad feeling that Evie would not approve of me giving our charge the chance to rectify the situation that he'd been given with violence, but I knew that it was the _only_ way that he'd truly be able to resolve this situation. I knew that bullies were one of those things in life that remained constant, they were the consummate example of a tiger that did not change its stripes, and the only thing they truly understood was pain…and they didn't like it when they were the ones who were made to feel said pain.

I pulled the car to the curb and made a swift exit, carefully glancing both ways to ensure that there was no traffic before I made my way to the passenger door. Everything was relatively quiet and still in the posh neighborhood that housed Tommy Elliot, and while I was grateful for the hush I couldn't help but hope that it wasn't _too_ quiet. Fights tended to be noisy events, and the last thing that was needed, or wanted, was a neighbor overhearing the violence that was going to unfold between Master Bruce and the aggressor who so desperately deserved a thorough beating.

I opened the door and waited for the boy to exit…and waited…and waited, but he seemed content to stay right where he was. Perhaps I'd misunderstood Bruce's intentions; perhaps he wasn't as quick to vengeance as I was. It wasn't a bad thing, to be a tad more levelheaded, but not at the cost of his pride or his principles. That being said, I would never force him to do something that he wasn't ready for…though, there was nothing that said that I couldn't encourage him, was there?

"I have something for you, Master Bruce," I said, pulling my handkerchief out of my pocket and unfolding it, to show him what lay within. "This watch belonged to your father," I told him, watching him closely as he plucked it from my hand. "I was going to wait to give it to you when you were older, but I think that it might benefit you to have it now. Just be sure that you don't misplace it, or damage it."

He held it in a manner that was almost reverent in nature, turning it this way and that, and closing his eyes, perhaps to recall a memory, and then opening them, to glance at the costly timepiece that his father had worn each and every day. The watch seemed to bolster him, to give him the strength that he needed, but in the end this would have to be his choice. I couldn't make it for him. All that I could do was encourage him, and I didn't hesitate when it came to doing so.

"That house is where Tommy Elliot lives with his mum and dad," I said, almost casually, as I indicated the correct door with a jerk of my head. Bruce stared at it for a moment, then closed his eyes and took, then released, one long, shuddering breath before he opened them again. "There's no reason for you to be scared, Master Bruce."

"I'm not frightened, Alfred," he replied, allowing his father's watch to slip onto his hand, but only 'til it covered his knuckles. "I'm planning what I want to do, I'm visualizing it, and learning it, so I won't have to stop and think once I get there."

"You know that you don't have to do this, don't you, Master Bruce?" I asked, unwilling to allow him to take a single step in that direction unless I was certain that he had no reservations that might make him falter. "There would be no shame in you walking away, right now….."

"You're wrong, Alfred," he responded, interrupting me before I could budge him off the path that I'd set him on. "There would be a great deal of shame to be borne, if I allowed him to get away with what he did."

I would have liked to have accompanied him to Tommy Elliot's front door, but I knew that he needed to climb those steps on his own. This was his wrong to be made right, and I had no place beside him. My place was standing behind him, to support him…and stay his hand, if necessary. I suppose that there were those who would say that it was wrong of me to be filled with pride as I watched him, but I wasn't the least bit ashamed. It was a necessary part of life, an essential part, if you wanted my opinion, to protect yourself and those you loved, and this was the young master's opportunity to do both.

The Elliot boy opened the door himself, and I watched his face fill first with disbelief, then the smug self-assuredness that only those who've never been made to pay for their actions could ever wear convincingly. He exchanged words with Bruce, foolishly secure in his belief that he had the upper hand…until the young master unleashed the fury of his fist, made deadlier by his father's watch, upon his tormentor's face.

"Don't!" Bruce shouted angrily, punctuating his speech with a punishing blow, and picking the former bully up each time he fell. "Ever…_thud_…talk about my mother…_thud_…again!"

I could see that the boy meant to continue to hammer his adversary until the Elliot lad's face was nothing but mush, and there was nothing that I would have loved more than to allow him to do so, but sadly I could not permit him to place the little wanker in intensive care…no matter how much I may have wanted to do so.

"Master Bruce!" I shouted, before the fourth punch could land and possibly shatter the Elliot boy's cheekbone. "I think that it's safe to assume that you've made your point." I glanced down at the battered and bloodied heap of chastened bully and fought against the urge to have a good chuckle at his expense. "How are you feeling, mate?" I asked jovially, wishing that I could punctuate my words with a swift kick to the lad's backside. "Any broken bones…or did he just bruise you a bit, eh?"

Tommy Elliot raised his face to mine, to stare at me incredulously, as if he'd expected me to leap to his defense, and was struggling to understand why I hadn't done so.

"Are you nuts?!" he shouted. "You saw what he did! He tried to kill me….!"

I smiled and shook my head at him. "Too right he did," I agreed, "he was going to kill you, had he continued to beat you. Maybe you'll want to remember that in the future, eh? And when you bring that recollection to mind, do me a favor and remember that I had every intention of allowing him to do so, alright?"

I turned to Master Bruce, who was shaking from head-to-toe, either from shock, or from the force of the adrenaline leaving his body, or perhaps both. "Come now, Master Bruce," I said softly, placing a hand on his arm, to move him back toward the car. "We need to get you some ice for those knuckles, don't we? It's getting late, it's almost dinnertime, and I think that you ought to choose what we'll have tonight, so what sounds good to you?"

He thought about it for just a moment, then looked up at me and smiled. "Would pizza be okay?"

I returned the smile and resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. "Pizza, you say?" I asked. "I think that would be perfect, Master Bruce."

* * *

><p>Evie was out when we returned. She was still attending a meeting with the head of the cleaning company that we used for Wayne Manor, and I decided that it was for the best. She wasn't there to witness Master Bruce's battered state and torn clothing. She didn't see me patching him up and bandaging his wounds. She wouldn't observe me joining the young master as he gorged himself on copious amounts of takeout pizza and soft drinks. I would have time to imagine how I was going to face her, and what I was going to say when the time came. There was no avoiding the inevitable end…but I could delay it, couldn't I?<p>

Bruce had been very quiet since we'd left Tommy Elliot's house. He'd barely said more than ten words altogether, and he sat very still and stared at his wall of "evidence" as I tidied the study. My plan was to clean up, and then do my best to coax him into talking to me afterward, so imagine my surprise, and delight…and just the tiniest bit of dread, when he chose to speak all of his own accord.

"I liked hurting him, Alfred," he said quietly. "I enjoyed each and every moment of it."

I took a deep breath and crossed the room, hesitating for just a moment, before I took a seat on his father's desk. "Well, that's understandable, Master Bruce," I assured him. "It's always gratifying to see someone receive the comeuppance that they so thoroughly deserve, isn't it?"

His eyes met mine, and they were filled with so much pain that it made my heart constrict, and I wanted, more than anything, to reach for him and hold him close. "I'm so angry," he whispered, "it feels like I spend all of my time filled with a rage that never lessens at all. Will it always be that way, Alfred? Will it ever go away and leave me alone?"

I clasped my hands, knowing that he was bound to react in a negative fashion, if I were to hug him. "I wish I knew the answer, Master Bruce…but I don't."

I got the feeling that he hadn't expected a resolution from me, and I was grateful to him for that, because I didn't want to be faced with the knowledge that I'd disappointed him.

"Alfred?" he asked tentatively, after a moment or two passed by in silence. "Do you think that you might…well, what I mean to say is…can you teach me how to fight?"

I felt my lips curve into a smile as an enormous sense of pride, mixed liberally with relief, filled me with happiness…a smile that froze, but did not fade, when I glanced at the door and found Evie standing there, watching us. She was holding Bruce's tattered blazer in her hands, and there was an inscrutable expression on her face.

"Yes, Master Bruce," I replied, wincing, to myself, as Evie lowered her eyes from mine and walked away. "I most certainly can."

Evangeline's POV

I was sitting on Alfred's bed in my tank top and boxers, with one foot on the mattress, while the other leg dangled off of the side, rubbing lotion up my calf and onto my thigh, when the door opened and he walked in. Faye Adams was belting out one of my favorite songs, as softly as she could be made by the stereo in the background, and my eyes met his, brown on blue, as she crooned the words, _Your troubles I'll share. Let me know and I'll be there. I'll take care of you, anyplace and anywhere_.

Hmm…I couldn't have planned things better than that, could I? I didn't like the fact that he'd sent Master Bruce to that school without talking things through with me, and I really, _really_ didn't like the fact that the boy had been involved in a fight, but what I'd seen and heard pass between the two of them in the study had lessened my aggression until it was nothing at all.

I smiled, to myself, when I saw Alfred's eyes move from mine, to trace along the length of my leg. I watched him take one long, deep breath, I saw him struggle to swallow, and followed the movements of his hands as if I was transfixed by the sight of them clenching into fists, then relaxing, at his sides. Faye was offering the best advice once more, singing _Be truthful to me, I'll be truthful to you. I'm in love with you so, and I don't know what to do_…..

Well, she might not have known what to do, but I did, and that was why I scooted back on the bed and patted the mattress beside me. His eyes met mine once more, and a smile overtook his face, the one hundred and twenty-fourth, if my count was correct, the boyish sort, accompanied by a sense of relief that was so palpable that it reached out and grabbed hold of my heart. He shrugged out of his vest and took off his tie, tossing them into a chair as he unbuttoned his shirt, all while making his way to the bed. He sat down beside me in a way that was almost hesitant in nature, and then he took me into his arms and pulled me over, to straddle his lap.

"I remember what my father said to me when I had my first fight," he murmured, running his hands into my hair, then down my back, lingering at my waist for just a moment, before they moved lower, to cup my backside. "I fully expected for him to thrash me for making a spectacle of myself and embarrassing him and my mother. I was ten years old, and he'd never spanked me, not once, but that was what I expected him to do….."

Faye Adams had faded away several moments before, and had been replaced by Ray Charles. _They say that time heals a broken heart_, he sang, _but time has stood still since we've been apart_…..

"Did he spank you?" I asked, drawing in a quick, hissed breath as he turned his head and pressed his lips, followed closely by his tongue, and then, oh, God, his teeth, against my neck.

"No, he never swatted me," he replied, smoothing his hands down over my bottom. "Neither he nor my mother…nor my Gran, for that matter. My knees were shaking as he led me away from the group that had assembled to watch me batter those boys black and blue, and I had that sinking feeling in my stomach, but once we were out of sight he didn't turn me over his knee. He turned me 'round, so I could face him, instead, then crouched down a bit, until his eyes were on level with mine…and then he hugged me, and told me that he loved me."

I heard his voice catch; them stumble, before he cleared his throat. "I started to tell him that I was sorry for fighting those boys, but then he reminded me that I wasn't supposed to lie to him. I remember his arms tightening around me, and my story spilled out. I told him how out of place I'd felt, I explained to him that those boys had been teasing me from the moment that I'd stepped outside in that bloody seersucker suit…he chuckled when I said that…and I told him that I'd been able to bear that just fine, but then they'd started poking fun at Mrs. Reed and that had made me mad…and her tears had made me furious….."

I tightened my hold on him, just as his father had done, and turned my head, to touch my lips to his forehead. "I explained to him that my temper had overwhelmed me," he continued, "I told him that they'd deserved to be hurt just as much as they'd hurt Mrs. Reed, but they weren't the sort who were injured with words, and that was why I'd used my fists on them instead. I remember that I held on to my father and spilled my guts, waiting for him to get angry at me…but he didn't."

I wasn't surprised that his father hadn't been upset with him, in spite of the circumstances that had surrounded the fight that had broken out. I had never known his father, but I could imagine that he'd been the sort of man that his son had turned out to be, and it wasn't difficult to imagine that he'd known what was truly right and truly wrong.

"He told me that I'd done the right thing," Alfred said shakily. "He said that the true measure of a man could be taken from what he did when he knew that he might be punished for standing up for what was right. He told me that a brave and righteous man stands up to those who mean to harm him or those he loves, and he said that it was my duty to always protect myself and those who were depending on me to keep them safe. He told me that Mrs. Reed hadn't needed me to save her life, but she had needed me to defend her honor, and he was proud of me for doing so. I remember that I was crying by that time, and I had my face burrowed in his chest, so I hadn't seen my mother and Mrs. Reed come into the room, nor had I noticed old Mr. and Mrs. Wayne…but I _did_ hear them when they said that they were proud of me too."

His face was pressed against my neck, so close that I could easily feel his breath on my skin and the soft brush of his lips as he spoke. "You dear man," I whispered, "_my_ dear man. Look at me, Alfred…just look at me, sweetheart."

He took one deep breath, then another, and finally found the strength to do as I'd asked. I smoothed back his hair, and kept my eyes on his, and then I smiled, leaning forward to touch my lips to his eyes, to his cheeks, and finally his mouth, until he returned the beam to me.

"I'm proud of you too," I murmured, "and your father sounds like a very kind, and very wise man to me. It _is_ the brave and righteous man who stands up for what is right and defends himself and those he loves. It was for the best that you allowed Bruce to do so…just make certain that you teach him everything that he needs to know, so he'll be ready if this ever happens again."

"No need to worry about that, love," he whispered, pulling me forward, to rock me against the hardening spot within his trousers. "He's got promise, and all it will take is a little hard work to mold him into the man he's meant to be…and I've gone from emotional watering pot to hot and bothered in the past few seconds, so please tell me what I ought to do, before I make the wrong move….."

As if on cue, the song on the stereo changed again, to one by Jo Stafford. _Take me in your arms and never let me go. Whisper to me softly while the moon is low_…..

"Just listen to the music," I whispered, giggling softly when I saw his eyes grow wide, then seductive, as he followed my advice and recognized the song. "That's _exactly_ what you ought to do."

Disclaimer: The lyrics listed in this chapter belong, respectively, to "Shake A Hand", by Faye Adams, "I Can't Stop Loving You", by Ray Charles, and "Make Love To Me", by Jo Stafford.


End file.
